Asking For Roses
by Sectumsempra11
Summary: Three sisters forge their own paths in an oppressed Pureblood society, but what of the youngest, most noble of Blacks? Narcissa's coming-of-age experiences have taught her that she is not a victim of destiny. LuciusxNarcissa. Alternate Universe mostly for skewed ages and timelines, and other alterations made that were written before the series was complete.
1. Chapter 1

_The band was playing a waltz-quadrille,  
I felt as light as a wind-blown feather,  
As we floated away, at the caller's will,  
Through the intricate, mazy dance together.  
Like mimic armies our lines were meeting,  
Slowly advancing, and then retreating,  
All decked in their bright array;  
And back and forth to the music's rhyme  
We moved together, and all the time  
I knew you were going away. _

_A Waltz-Quadrille_ by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

It was the summer, prior to her fifteenth birthday, and a place in time where she didn't think to mind being called "Cissy", and the summer she also became an eligible bride. Though the notion was announced, Narcissa remained unmoved by the revelation, because nothing had changed. Suitors did not line the halls, awaiting her hand in marriage with earnest. No one ever came to call the Black Mansion for her. In fact, she was never even courted at dinner parties, except for the occasional gentleman that danced with her out of respect to her name, but held no intentions for her. It had not occurred to her that this was distressing, until an argument with her sister, Bellatrix, had roused a deep-rooted insecurity in her, that she firmly held masked. If men did not want her _now_, how would she wed? It frightened her to be an old maid, without a husband or children, shacked up in a shanty square room in St. Mungo's, without windows or anyone to visit her. Simultaneously, it terrified her to be married with children, shacked up in a mansion, and praying that the next visitor would be Death himself.

Sometimes, while absent in thought, she dreamed of the prospects of a future – alternate to the one in which she would receive. It was merely a dream that lacked the formalities of being a lady. It was foolish to stare wistfully into the distance and have hope; yet, even though she dreamed many foolish things, and held foolish romanticism in her heart, she could not eradicate the parameters that were instinctual in her heart; suppressed by society, and bound in shackles by man. Though far too young to know the true tragedy of marriage or death, she understood that it loomed over her, continuously ticking away after each birthday. One day, she too would stand and dedicate her life to a promise that went unfulfilled. A part of her had thoroughly accepted her fate; a part of her even wished for it, for the comfort was easier than the startling revolution her sisters were attempting to carve; a part of her felt that it was not wrong of her to marry a man and live in the planned serenity that would encompass her life, so long as she produced an heir. But another part, a wicked believer and a wild, stormy piece inside of her wanted to feel reckless and breathless with love, lest she conquer the world by herself.

Narcissa watched the slow roll of small mounds of land, and the waves of long-bladed emerald grass as the carriage rode down a narrow country lane in Wiltshire. The day was a breath from night, lazily hovering with half-lidded eyes – almost asleep. Pink and orange rays of light splashed across the open sky among the translucent pearl moon, and the first dust of sparkling stars. She looked at Bellatrix, whose porcelain outline was framed with a wild mane of jet-black curls and provocative robes of scarlet, juxtaposing the neutral hues of blue, black, and green that the other Black family members wore. Narcissa wore dress robes of deep blue, as her mother said that they brought out her eyes. She was a sapphire amongst the rubies of her family; she was bright-eyed and blonde; opposing the dark, haughty appearances of the other members in her family. It was said that she was identical to a great great great grandmother, whom she had never known, and whom she had never found portraits of, but still one in which she mirrored; even in personality.

Tonight was the eve of the annual summer ball that the Malfoy family hosted. It was one of the few festivities they hosted, for Lady Odelia Malfoy was often faint, and Master Abraxas Malfoy was not very social, though nonetheless charming. Their only heir, Lucius Malfoy, was a most favorable alliance to her sister, Bellatrix, though Narcissa had only seen him a handful of times from afar. He, like his father, preferred the company of silence, and he often sought solace in the refuges of books, or the Herbology greenhouses at _Hogwarts_. He had never called their home for Bellatrix, unless accompanied by his father, and then his purpose only served to be cordial. For awhile, Bellatrix and Lucius had been betrothed, but Bellatrix took fancy in a Lestrange man, and Lucius denied their engagement, whether to be polite and let Bellatrix free, or to free himself from the claws of the eldest of the Black sisters. It wasn't known to Narcissa, though she did have her theories. It had set her father, Master Cygnus Black, rather awry. She had never known his rage to be so fierce as it was the day that Bellatrix announced the broken engagement between she and Lucius Malfoy. Her father was appreciative of Abraxas Malfoy, who refused to sever the centuries of friendship that the Malfoy's and Black's had, because of Bellatrix. To Narcissa, that friendship seemed hollow, as no one from either family spent any time with one another, unless for business, or in passing at parties. She had always fancied the idea of her mother spending the day with Lady Malfoy in the garden, drinking tea and enjoying the sunshine, while the flowers bloomed, but such a thing never occurred.

Their carriage approached the Malfoy Manor, and Narcissa squinted out of the window opposite of her to see. They passed through the wrought-iron gate, which was surrounded by high, manicured hedges. The front lawn was sprawled out before them, as they queued in the line of carriages along the rigidly straight driveway. High above them was the darkened outline of the manor, set ablaze by large windows and torches, and it lit the pathway to the expansive doors. As their carriage stopped, they gathered themselves, and stepped into the cool night air. Druella Black, Narcissa's mother, swept her eyes across her daughters quickly to make sure they appeared presentable, and then they walked to the front door, where Master and Lady Malfoy were waiting just inside the foyer.

The Parkinson's were in front of them, but after greeting the hosts, they swept away from the foyer, and into the main hall where the party was. Narcissa peered from behind Andromeda's shoulder at the Malfoy's. Abraxas Malfoy stood tall. He was of relative height, just a few inches taller than her father. Though his short, pale blonde hair and cold gray eyes made him seem formally cold, he was warm toward her father, and even smiled as they gripped hands. She was sure he was a force that could frighten one, though. His high forehead and sharp features gave him a regale appearance. Next to him, Lady Malfoy seemed to be fading. She sat in the chair looking frail and nearly skeletal. She was a pale and beautiful woman, but fragile and painstakingly thin next to him. She wore shawls over her dress robes, and her hair was thin and pulled back. Her eyes were slightly dull and green, though Narcissa could remember a time when she was a child when Odelia's eyes were a shimmering emerald. It seemed that Death was watchful upon the Malfoy household.

Master Malfoy's laugh was boisterous, ricocheting off of the decorative and elaborate tapestries, and walls. He woke portraits of past family members that had been dozing in their portraits, as he passed his hand from her father's and bowed to Mrs. Black. He kissed the hand of Bellatrix, and even Andromeda without hesitation, though Andromeda was now a known blood-traitor, soon to be eradicated from the family tree, because of her politics and alliance with their cousin, Sirius Black. It was finally Narcissa's turn, and Abraxas gave her a sweeping bow as she curtsied to him, and he brought her hand delicately to his lips and kissed it politely.

"My, you've grown, Miss Narcissa," He greeted, and as she flashed him a brilliant smile, he winked and moved onto the Zabini's, that were behind her.

"How are you fairing, Lady Malfoy?" Narcissa questioned, deeply curtseying to the corpse of a woman in front of her.

Odelia inclined her head, unable to curtsey, and said, "Well enough today, Miss Narcissa, well enough. Do enjoy yourself this evening."

"And you also, Mrs. Malfoy," She responded, adding another deep curtsey, and then retreating to the main hall.

As soon as a few house elves pushed opened the door for her, she was struck by blinding light and lively music. The foyer, which had been muffled and only partially lit, was a shadow in comparison. The stars grew dim against the blazing and golden sun that had erupted above them. Ornate tapestries hung along the walls. The windows trailed up the high vaulted ceilings. Emerald green curtains framed the glass, held back by golden threads so that the night sky could peer in. Outside, she saw an expansive garden and a fountain. Tables were placed along the western end of the room, and silver dishes and goblets were heaped on top.

There were already over one hundred people mingling. Some were dancing informally, for the waltzing would not begin for another hour or so. Most of the guests were eating, conversing, or traveling amongst each other. To Narcissa, dinner parties were of fascination and fun, but it was truly only business, obscured by bright lights and elegant apparel. She found her sister, Bellatrix, in the midst of the dancers, traveling through the arms of her fiance, Rodolphous Lestrange. Her scarlet robes whirled around her in cadence to the music. Andromeda remained aloof by one of the tables, completely alone.

Disregarding her elder sisters, Narcissa moved to the table and picked up a goblet. Her fingers fell over the Malfoy crest, encrusted onto the goblet. The Malfoy's encouraged guests to take the trinkets with them. In the parlor at her home, they had a cabinet full of goblets from various engagements that the Malfoy's hosted. They were different at every party, with the exception of the family seal. She took a sip of the wine, having never been told that alcohol was forbidden from her at this sort of party.

The Malfoy's, though they did not host many parties, had the most guests, and they were the most anticipated. The second most anticipated party was the Christmas party that her family hosted. The Malfoy's also hosted a masquerade ball on Halloween, but she and her sisters had always been at _Hogwarts_, and so they had never attended. During the summer, her family hosted about six or seven parties. The Parkinson's and the Zabini's were the next prominent families in line, and their parties were the most frequent, often each weekend. But the summer ball that the Malfoy's held was the one in which everyone attended; it seemed to eclipse all of the others.

By now, there were some that were already drunk. A wizard in purple was dancing wildly, shooting sparks to the ceiling with his wand, while his wife tugged at his sleeve and looked around at everyone, humiliated. Narcissa picked up another goblet of wine and drank, looking out across the guests. She saw Lucius enter now, though he was rather late, with a measured saunter. The guests parted for him as he crossed the hall. This was the only time she had ever viewed Lucius; far away and surrounded by a group of people that were in awe of him. However, he was coming near her, and she had half the mind to turn away. She stayed rooted in her spot, frozen by curiosity and perhaps a self-destructive nature. She could not move, though she had the mind to. As if the very Earth had chained her to the floor. As if magicked, though she knew she was not.

He was on the left side of the room now. They were only separated by the length of the table; she at one end, and he at the other. It was the closest she had ever been to him. She had her doubts that he knew of her existence. He was apart of an elite group of Slytherins at school; even the other houses envied them in some fashion. It was composed of her sister Bellatrix, Lucius Malfoy, Regulus Black, Pearl Parkinson, Candra Zabini, and Abraham Nott. She glanced around; she could see each of them within their own spectrum of the room, also surrounded by others, with the exception of Bellatrix, because she was still dancing.

There was room for only one Black sister, and Bellatrix had long since claimed it. Narcissa remained overshadowed by her, constantly referred to as, "Bella's youngest sister". She could not bring herself to bathe in the popularity that the title would bring her, for she had at least an ounce of pride, and wanted to be known as simply "Narcissa". She and her sisters did not run in the same social circles. Andromeda, in a separate house, was lost completely. No one would ever want her around now, though she was distinctly more beautiful than Bellatrix, and given the opportunity, could very well over power Bellatrix. Her abilities went to waste, because she had no interest in the pureblood society.

She was startled out of her reverie, as Lucius Malfoy approached her. His eyes were trailing above her on the wall, possibly at one of the tapestries. He was merely a few feet from her, and she remained astonished. His features were dominated by Abraxas's entirely. He was pale, with sharp features, his hair was thick and white-blond, tied back by a band at the nape of his neck. Unlike his father, he wore his hair around his shoulders, usually tied back, but she had seen him at the breakfast table a few times with it down. He was taller than his father, and most of the guests, ashe was easily over six foot. He was thin, like his mother, though not as sickly. He and his father both shared a regale aura, seeming confident and aloof. Lucius was much more introverted, though not shy, and he spoke few words. Narcissa saw what appealed to everyone else, what allured them so easily; he was a man of distinct mystery, a puzzle within himself that not many comprehended or got close to. He was also said to be the very epitome of a gentleman, not at all the brute as Candra Zabini was.

Another girl, probably Narcissa's age, swept up to him confidently, "Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to see you."

She accompanied her words with a curtsey, one of the momentous grace. Her legs bent swiftly as she bowed, and then regained her posture, just as Lucius kissed her hand and bowed to her himself. Narcissa watched with slight envy, for often her curtseys could become shaky, and there had been instances that she had nearly tripped. For the most part, she managed a shallow curtsey that appeared graceful enough, but never would she be able to manage what the young lady had.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Lucius questioned.

"Oh, I am immensely," She gushed, flashing him a brilliant smile, "But if you would consent to a dance with me later, my time spent here would greatly improve, Mr. Malfoy."

"Certainly," Lucius bowed once more, "I will save one for you, Miss."

She walked away, robes swishing around her, with her shoulders arched. She nearly danced across the floor to her friends. Narcissa, both appalled by her own lack of elegance, and in awe of this girl's confidence, turned sharply to move away and nearly collided with a young Zabini. She hurried across the room, and out of the doors onto the veranda. The summer air had cooled now, and the garden was darkened, except for the light that seeped out of the windows and shone on the extravagant flowers and hedges. In the center of the garden, stood an enormous fountain, water flowing timely from it, high into the air. A small perimeter around the fountain was continuously sprayed by light drops of water, and she stepped onto the brick paths that began at the edge of the veranda and wound its way entirely through the garden.

Sitting at the edge of the stone basin of the fountain, Narcissa could clearly see the guests through the window. The most vivid were Bellatrix and Candra Zabini, both of whom were dancing with one another now. His robes were bright orange, clashing with Bella's scarlet, as they whirled across the dance floor. Narcissa knew that the waltz would begin in just a few moments, as Abraxas and Odelia were now inside the hall. She had thought that Lucius's entrance was remarkable, but no one reacted to anyone the way they did the Malfoy's. They may have been royalty. And they were, for the purebloods, because everyone loved them. The Malfoy's were the gems, every bit the pride and purity, of their society. It was their night. It was their world.

She had never felt more of an outsider than she did now, sitting in the garden, watching the adoration. At the same moment, she had never felt so peaceful. It was as if the garden had been meant for her, as though it were a small piece of home that she had never known existed until this moment. Sitting outside, watching her society and their frivolity, she had never felt that reality fit the inside of her until now. For it represented her heart; shadowed by something larger, encompassed by a society that didn't understand her, but one in which she didn't understand either.

A slat of light poured out across the veranda as the door opened. She saw a spill of white-blond hair, and Lucius escaping from the fun and stepping out into the garden. She was in perfect view of him, she imagined he had already seen her. She turned her chin away, studying the cluster of albino peacocks snoozing beneath a tree.

His footsteps were light as they approached her.

"Hello, Miss," Lucius greeted.

Narcissa turned her head to him, though her body was angled away, and replied coolly, "Hello, Mr. Malfoy."

"Who might you be? I believe your name has slipped my mind."

"Narcissa Black," She told him, rising.

She made casual note of the fact that her back was entirely drenched from the fountain's spray. She was also aware that she was not allowed to do any kind of magic outside of school. There was absolutely no way she could go back inside now, she thought.

"Miss Black. You must be the youngest. Miss Bellatrix's sister," Lucius bowed to her courteously, though he didn't warm to her the way Master Malfoy had whenever he heard her name. "You're going to be a fifth year this term, aren't you? Have you been made Prefect?"

Narcissa was a rather poor student. She did fine in her classes, but she did not have the ambition to excel, and rise above the rest. There wasn't any point to it; she would leave school, and wed a man. Afterward, she would never have need for an education beyond the basics. Astronomy or Divination was not required to be a mother, nor was Ancient Runes. Lucius Malfoy, however, was at the top of his classes, so she had heard.

"I am Bellatrix's sister, yes," Narcissa replied, sinking into a curtsey, "And I will also be a fifth year, but not a Prefect."

"Excellent. I hope you enjoy your year," Lucius Malfoy said, "It is my last year. You are in Slytherin?"

"I am in Slytherin," She told him.

"Wonderful. How is the party? Are you having any fun?" He questioned, "I saw you outside, I thought perhaps you were unhappy."

"No," Narcissa replied, "I am having fun. Just not one for dancing, that's all."

"Have you danced this evening?"

"No, I'm afraid not," She said.

Narcissa refused to admit that the only men that had danced with her were usually those out of sympathy or close friends of her father. Regulus often came around for a dance, just to make her feel better, but most gentleman saw only Bellatrix and a conquest of other young ladies. She was just fourteen, _nearly_ fifteen.

"You must waltz," Lucius told her.

"I'm afraid I can't waltz," She said, "I'm in a bit of a predicament."

"What ails you?"

She didn't know how to waltz. Her mother had absolutely forbidden it until she was Bellatrix's age, for the dance was very intimate, and she did not want a man so close to Narcissa. She was allowed simple steps, dances that did not require much gliding, or close interaction.

"I'm not good at waltzing," Narcissa lied, "I'm a bit clumsy, I suppose."

"Is that all?" Lucius asked, "I thought perhaps you were concerned about the back of your robes being wet."

"Well, that is something of concern as well," She replied, her voice clipped.

He began to laugh, but Lucius sobered instantly when she didn't laugh with him, "It has happened to me many times, I always forget that it doesn't do good to sit there – here, let me assist you, Miss Black."

He pulled out his wand, and pointing it at her, he muttered a spell and the back of her dress robes were dry.

"Thank you," She responded, fighting to retain her dignity.

"Shall we return to the party?" He asked, offering his arm to her.

Narcissa did not wish to return, but she took his arm just the same. He led her across the garden, onto the veranda, and back into the hall. She saw Abraxas by the table, lifting a goblet high above his head and drinking with those who were imitating his actions. After they drank, they cheered. Narcissa crossed the dance floor, her eyes still upon the group of men surrounded by Maser Malfoy. Bellatrix whirled past her, spinning and spinning, moving so quickly that Narcissa could not make out with whom her sister was even dancing.

The music shifted, and with it, the atmosphere of the party did as well. The waltz was beginning. Abraxas swept across the room to the middle of the main floor, not with Lady Malfoy, but with Narcissa's mother, Druella. Odelia sat in a chair at the eastern end of the room, a bright smile on her face, and her hands clasped together. Several wizards and witches sat near her, chatting. Narcissa stood at the edge of the room, watching, as the groups of people took their places around Abraxas Malfoy.

Abraxas bowed to Druella as she curtsied to him. A flourish of seventy or so couples mimicked their actions smoothly, nearly synchronized. They began around the room, arms held firm, gracefully turning. Robes were whirling everywhere, perfectly align with the lead couple. Narcissa saw her sister in the midst of them, scarlet robes turning. They were turning so quickly that Narcissa couldn't keep up with them. Some of the couples were spinning, weaving in and out of other pairs. The entire floor seemed painted with splashes of dress robes, flowing across the floor in gallant swoops. Spinning, spinning, all in time with the music.

It continued as thus, until the guests began to straggle out of the hall quite late, retreating to their carriages. Some guests stumbled, and others were levitated out. House elves were gathering some guests that had strayed upstairs and passed out. Narcissa stood near the food table, arms crossed. Her family was always the last to leave, as her father and Master Malfoy often chatted in his study. Her mother was assisting Odelia Malfoy to bed. In front of one of the windows, Bellatrix and Rodolphous were latched in a tight embrace, furiously kissing, only hidden out of view by the wide sweep of curtain.

"Bella, come say goodbye with us," Mr. Black called, as he whisked away into the main foyer.

It was perhaps uncanny good luck that he hadn't glanced behind his shoulder to find his daughter. Surprised, but nonetheless satisfied with her rendezvous, Bellatrix left the hall with Rodolphous. After they left, Narcissa slumped against the wall, and sat on the floor; finally the only remaining guest in the main hall. She looked out across the abandoned room, still glittering with light, and nearly as extraordinary as the very first moment she stepped in. She pulled her shoes off and tossed them to the side, and painfully rubbed the soles of her feet. It had been a long evening, nearly six hours of standing rigidly straight, spectating a dance in which she could not participate in. Though not sure she wished to engage in the tangle of a waltz, the idea of it itself seemed romantic. She tried to imagine with whom she would be dancing, an imaginary husband that could lead her expertly across the floor. She thought of her own robes, swishing and whirling with the other pairs, and a girl like her watching her, awestruck by the beauty of it all.

"Miss Black?"

She started, and sprang to her feet quickly, smoothing her robes. Glancing up, she focused on Lucius Malfoy, who appeared slightly wind-blown. She looked across the hall, where the veranda doors were ajar. He had been outside? She had thought he had gone into the foyer. Perhaps he had been searching for missing guests that could have ventured out into the gardens and passed out, which was likely, as it had occurred in her courtyard at home quite a few times. She couldn't imagine Lucius Malfoy outside, snogging with the girl that asked him to waltz with her, and besides, he didn't seem to be gloating as a fat cat would after a nice meal and a hearty nap.

"Hello," Narcissa greeted, feeling a bit repetitive, as she curtseyed.

He bowed before her, "Do you fair well?"

"Quite," She responded dispassionately, taking notice that her shoes were near her, scattered haphazardly.

"How was the waltz?" Lucius asked, "I told you, it is quite fun. You enjoyed it?"

"It was very beautiful to watch," Narcissa admitted, "Lovely, even. Your father dances very well."

"You did not participate?" He seemed surprised.

"No one asked for my hand," She explained, and then added offhandedly, "Another time, I suppose."

Lucius extended his hand to her, "Will you dance with me, Miss Black?"

"Here? Now? Why ever would you wish to waltz, Mr. Malfoy?"

"You cannot attend a summer ball without waltzing. Especially not mine!" He explained, "Dance with me, Miss Black."

She stared at his open palm for a moment and then straightened, "I am clumsy, do you recall?"

"No matter. There is no one here to watch you stumble," Lucius assured her, "Come along, I must insist."

She finally consented, placing her hand in his, and he pulled her to the midst of the floor. Without music, or any of the formalities that was involved in the waltz, they were to dance. He pulled away from her, sinking into a bow, and she responded. Then, he took her arms and held her. They began, slowly, turning across the floor and spinning. To say that watching a waltz and remarking of its beauty is valid, but to dance a waltz had other merits. The room spun, morphing into tranquil blurs of vibrant color, as her feet seemingly flew. She felt her own robes whirling and twirling around her. Faster and faster they danced about the hall. He lifted her and spun, set her down, and they continued pivoting. She watched blurred speckles of stars bleed across the windows in vivid flashes. She was constantly turning, unaware of the way her feet moved. She felt as she had in the gardens; at home in a place she didn't know had existed; outside of the true focus of reality; yet dead center in a parallel universe that only she knew. Her mind spun as quickly as her body, yet her soul felt projected along the walls of the hall, floating – flying.

A crisp, loud clap began from the corner of the room, and she jolted away from Lucius, who seemed more surprised by her reaction, than to the audience. She hurried across the room to collect her shoes, face flushed in embarrassment. Master Malfoy and her family stood at the door, and had been watching for some time, she supposed.

"Quite the pair," Abraxas remarked with a slight smirk, "You should have waltzed together earlier this evening."

"Yes," Druella Black answered, lips pursed, "Yes, they danced rather beautifully."

Narcissa slipped her shoes on over her feet, eyes trailing up to Bellatrix. Her sister's eyes were on her, fiercely glaring, as though Narcissa's actions were far more scandalous than her own. She glowered back with as much intensity that she could muster and sidled across the room to her family.

"Thank you for dancing with me, Mr. Malfoy," She said, curtseying politely.

As he bowed and kissed her hand, he glanced up at her. His gray eyes found her blue, and it was then that she found him truly remarkable.

"You're quite welcome," He replied, stepping away.

The Malfoy's followed them to the door, respectfully thanking them for attending the ball. After many minutes of cordial comments, the Black's parted. Narcissa took her father's hand as he helped her into the carriage, and she sat in between Bellatrix and Andromeda on the way home.

As soon as they arrived in the entrance hall, her mother followed Narcissa into the parlor and locked the door behind her. She motioned her to sit on one of the divans and then she began.

"I had _strictly_ forbidden you from waltzing, Cissy," Druella reprimanded, "And what do I walk in upon?"

"He _insisted_, mother, what was I to do? Deny the host that had so cordially invited me into his home?" She snapped back, "That would be exceptionally rude of me."

"Divert him to another dance, if he insists! And for Merlin's sake, you _should_ have had a chaperone!" Druella responded, "You are an eligible bride, Cissy, you must act with class. A man will not wed you if he believes you impure."

"Bella's betrothed!" Narcissa retorted, laughing haughtily, "Everyone knows how impure _she_ is. Sold her chastity for a few galleons, I'll bet!"

"Don't speak ill of your sister!"

"Why? Because perchance it is true?" She quipped, "Don't chastise me for dancing with a respectable gentleman. Why don't you question what Bellatrix was doing with Rodolphous behind a curtain while you and the Malfoy's were showing the guests to the door?"

"You dancing _alone_ with Lucius Malfoy, a dance I specifically told you that you were _not_ allowed to engage in, is what we are discussing, _not _the actions your sister may have, or may have not, acted upon."

"He was nothing but cordial, mother, I do not see any harm--"

Druella interjected, "Perhaps Lucius Malfoy _is_ a gentleman, but so many other men are _not_, Narcissa. You must heed extreme caution. Perhaps Lucius Malfoy was a gentleman at that _time_, but he may not be the next moment you decide to steal away with him! You must be wise, not act a damned fool. If your reputation is soiled.."

"Fine, mother. I'll heed your advice," She told her, "I shan't see Lucius Malfoy anyway. He's not exactly in my league. Or any other man, for that matter. I will grow old and die alone."

"Hush, Narcissa. You'll find a suitable husband soon enough," Druella clipped shortly, "Run along to bed."

With a slam of the parlor door, Narcissa crossed the hall. She let her feet thump loudly as she made her way up the stairs, and into her bedroom chamber. Her bedroom door made a resound crack down the hallway as she kicked it shut with her foot. Crossing her bedroom, she wrenched open the window. The wind hit her face, immediately cooling her. She sat in the window sill, looking up at the dark blanket of the sky. She closed her eyes, and she felt like she was still spinning, spinning, spinning, all around the bright hall, in the arms of Lucius Malfoy; a man as unattainable as the stars themselves.


	2. Chapter 2

_Helpless among the living and the dead,  
Like a cold water among broken reeds,  
Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,  
Like me who have no love which this wild rain  
Has not dissolved except the love of death,  
If love it be for what is perfect and  
Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint. _

_Rain_, by Edward Thomas

The pale sunlight had become sweltering by midday. Ripples of steam rose up from the courtyard, and passed over the stone walls. A light breeze pushed Narcissa to and fro in a woven hammock as she rested beneath the shade of a cluster of trees. She could hear her mother scolding Bellatrix from an open window upstairs, and the radio was playing a soft, rhythmic song from the parlor, where her father was avidly immersed in the _Daily Prophet_. She held a thick, leather bound book in her hands, but the words had begun to bleed together after a while.

'…._It's summertime, and the living is easy....'_

_ 'Fish are jumping, and the cotton is high....'_

Bellatrix was attending a dinner party arranged by the Lestrange's for she and her betrothed's benefit. Narcissa suspected, by the weary expression that had held her mother's face since it was announced, that it was a very pivotal moment for their engagement. Having no experience with courting, Narcissa did not find it so fanciful, though she knew that the Pureblood society was one to produce such difficult proverbial hoops to jump through. Her prospects of being married anytime soon were thus lowered, if one had to practice such a difficult process. Narcissa had begun to extinguish her fears of ever marrying, for she was quite content to remain the baby of the family, and entertain her thoughts in a hammock every summer. She had come to the conclusion that adulthood was not to be sought after vigilantly, for it would seek her when the time was paramount. Her only concern was undermining her eldest sister, of which she had come to only one consequence; murdering Bellatrix; however, her father had gravely advised her against such an act.

'_Your daddy's rich, and your mama's good looking..'_

_'Hush little baby, don't you cry.'_

_'Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.'_

_'No, no, no, no.'_

_'Don't cry, don't cry.'_

Summer was ending soon. She only had two weeks until she resigned herself to yet another year of utter monotony. She only anticipated the loss of formality that occurred at _Hogwarts_, but nothing else was of any importance to her. The Slytherins referred to one another by their first (or last) names, and no one bowed or curtsied upon greeting. It was accepted that, within _Hogwarts_, the students could behave as informally as they wished, (with the exception of fraternizing with blood-traitors, mudbloods, or half-bloods) and, _hypothetically_, it would not damage their reputation at home.

Shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun, she slid off of the hammock, and smoothed her robes; the thin silk fabric seemed to melt against her legs as she walked among the hot mold of summer air. She climbed the steps and went inside.

Her home was fully carpeted, which was uncommon for most families. Even Aunt Walburga's manor had bare floors. She detested visiting Aunty's home for the holidays. Her aunt was a shrewd, and obnoxiously vocal woman, that often took to howling around the house over minimal misfortunes. There was also the unfortunate appearance of her cousin, Sirius, whom she had never considered much of a gentleman. They retained a deep mutual dislike for one another, and she usually tried to skirt around him, for he was renowned for being wicked. Regulus was the only tolerable son, but even he became irksome; for he spent long hours going unstirred, lost in absent thought. Father had told her that men who sat and thought all day were exhausted by night, and did not wake well in the morning.

The parlor doors were open, and thus Narcissa found it unnecessary to knock before her entrance. Cygnus Black sat, smoking snipes, and reading from the _Prophet. _Reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose.

"How long will Bellatrix be out, father?" She questioned, as she folded herself on the divan against his side, with her legs curled up to her chest.

"I imagine the entire evening," He answered, wrapping his free arm around her, and mussing up her hair.

He brought the newspaper down to her level, so that she could also read. Her mother had forbidden Narcissa from reading the _Daily Prophet_, or any of the sort, for she said it was a "man's business" and ladies should not have any interest in politics. Several times, her mother had caught her father allowing her to read it with him. He proclaimed himself reckless, and sent her away. She liked sitting with her father in the parlor in the evenings. Sometimes he even read aloud to her; his low-rumbling voice was soothing to her.

"What's that about the Ministry, father?" She questioned, and upon inspection of a photograph, she asked again, "Is that Cornelius Fudge?"

"Indeed," Mr. Black responded, "He's running for Minister, and I imagine he'll win. Our lot will push the vote for him. He is a pureblood, you know. He isn't a prominent one, but a pureblood nonetheless, and that means something."

"Means what, Daddy?"

"Oh, the right kind of people are in the government again. The right kind, the right kind."

"Why don't you run for Minister?" She asked him.

He peered down at her thoughtfully, then chuckled, "I'm much too old for that sort of nonsense. Besides, I have a war to proceed over at my own home. How goes the solitary revolution of your sister's monarchy?"

"I'm still open to killing her," Narcissa said cheerfully.

"Treachery is a fatuous strategy," Mr. Black told her, "If one must destroy another, do so softly."

"How do you destroy softly?" She asked, eagerly.

He shrugged noncommittally, a response she typically received when he became aware that he wasn't supposed to blatantly project favoritism onto one of his daughters. He needn't tell her specifically; in some way, he seemed to always be rallying on her side of the square. Cygnus Black folded his newspaper up, and tapped her knee.

"I'm sure you get lonely when Bellatrix is out, yes?" He asked, his tone skirting into a breath of slyness.

"I _mourn_ the moments that she is not present," Narcissa sneered.

"Perhaps I shall ask the Malfoy's over, then," He commented lightly, "It would be good of you to entertain, and practice being a lady. I'm sure your mother would not have any qualms...and Lucius seemed to enjoy your brief company."

"But, father..."

He swept out of the parlor without further explanation. Narcissa sat, dumbstruck by her father's actions for a moment. Mr. Black knew that Lucius Malfoy was Bellatrix's alliance. He was her first, in fact. They became alliances as children; Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy had declared it during a dinner party, at the encouragement of both of their parents, of course.

Knots of nerves welled in the pit of her stomach, as she thought about entertaining one of the most prominent families. Despite the fact that her family was just as important as the Malfoy's, she felt flustered. Glancing down at her appearance, she noted that it was unacceptable, so she hurried to her bedroom to arrange more appropriate attire. As she looked through her wardrobe, she heard a defiant howl that advanced down the hall toward her.

The doors burst open. Bellatrix's chest was heaving; her arms were spread against the door frame, and her expression was, as her father had once mentioned, "homicidal".

"What are you playing at?" She spat dangerously, glaring.

"I beg your pardon?" Narcissa turned away from her robes, letting her fingers slide across the many fabrics of silk.

"Father just told us that the Malfoy's were coming over for dinner," She murmured, "Convenient that I will be gone before they arrive at six-thirty."

"I do not understand how that concerns me," She replied coolly.

"You know _exactly _how the hell it concerns you. Narcissa, and you are a slimy little snake!" Bellatrix declared, "You are trying to steal from me, aren't you?"

"Father invited them over," She said, "I did not suggest it."

"Did he_ suggest _you dance with him, too?" Bellatrix laughed haughtily, "Or how about out in the garden? You think I do not see you!"

Narcissa opened her mouth in indignantly, "I have done nothing vindictive to you, sister, nor would I dream of it! Your lack of trust horrifies me."

"You're infatuated with him," Bellatrix accused, "You know you haven't got a chance with anyone else, so you're trying to marry the best, by using my alliance with him to get you there!"

"I've no intention of marrying him!" Narcissa exclaimed, "Nor do I even fancy him. You forget that his father and mother are alliances of our parents. As I stated before, _Father_ invited the family over. Had I the mind to steal Lucius Malfoy, I would have made attempts long ago. I am no threat to you. I have done nothing."

"You have been out to ruin me since the day you were _born_!"

"What did I do, throw my rattles at you?" Narcissa retorted, laughing bitterly, "You are absolutely _delirious_."

Bellatrix stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard that the portraits on Narcissa's walls shook. With a sigh, she turned back to her robes, trying to decide which to wear. She decided upon a green one; green was not her best color, but she found the dress to be the most appropriate for a casual dinner such as this one. After changing, she watched from her window, as Bellatrix hurried to the carriage. Her hair whipped around behind her, as she furiously stalked across the lawn. Mrs. Black hurried behind her, probably chastising her the entire way, as they neared the carriage. Narcissa imagined that the dinner would not go well. Bellatrix had a bit of a temper that lasted for quite some time. Once she got herself roused up, it was hard for her to settle down again and think clearly. Sometimes, Bellatrix would stay mad at Narcissa for many days. Typically, those days were ones in which she stayed close to her father's side, in fear of being attacked by an unruly elder sister.

She was sitting in front of her vanity mirror, brushing out the waves from her hair, when her mother opened the door. Narcissa looked at her mother's reflection in the mirror; she appeared cross. Her lips were still set in a firm line, and her eyes were narrowed. She stopped behind her shoulder, and remained quiet for a few moments, as though she were choosing her words carefully.

"Are you deliberately causing your sister harm?" She finally questioned.

"Honestly, mother, it was father that suggested it," Narcissa pleaded, "I did not ask that he invite them over. He said it would give me good practice in being a lady, that's all. I did not mean any harm."

Mrs. Black pursed her lips, "You could practice being a lady with _anyone,_ Narcissa. Why, he should have invited Mara Parkinson and Phoebe Greengrass! They are acceptable alliances for you."

Mara Parkinson was Pearl Parkinson's cousin. She had just turned thirteen, and though she was a relatively a quiet girl, she had a razor-sharp tongue. Unabashedly cruel, she typically spat insults at any person near her. She was a worthy alliance, but a cruel one that Narcissa did not like to be in the company of, lest she insult her. Phoebe Greengrass, on the other hand, was an exceedingly boring girl (her sister, Scarlet, was the same) and only gained popularity because of her parent's notorious and scandalous divorce. Many were so appalled by the divorce, that Scarlet and Phoebe became popular just because of the controversy over them. The divorce had left the family almost bankrupt. Mrs. Greengrass had to move back to her family's manor, and Mr. Greengrass was forced to sell all of his estates, except the summer home by the channel, where he and the children currently lived.

"Perhaps their families were not free this evening," She suggested lightly, "Or father has business with Master Malfoy.."

"Nonsense," Her mother stated, as she turned sharply away from her daughter and crossed the room, "Absolute nonsense.."

The Malfoy's were prompt, though Lady Malfoy was not present, for she was feeling very ill that evening. Her absence made it all the more informal, for Lady Black retreated to bed midway into dinner. Narcissa remained at her father's side, sitting across from Master Malfoy, who was a man that seemed to enjoy the company of her father. She found Lucius Malfoy to be a rather quiet dinner companion, for he did not comment upon the conversation that Mr. Malfoy and her father were having, though she imagined he was encouraged.

"I have donated quite a large sum for the campaign," Mr. Malfoy said, "I believe that the rest of the community will follow suit. That is my wish, of course."

"I imagine they will," Mr. Black responded cordially, "It may be a bright year after all, once he is elected."

"One would hope."

Narcissa found dinner to be rather boring; casual encounters were more dull than large dinner parties, though she found that quite difficult to grasp at first, but it _was_ in fact one of the worst engagements she had attended.

"Lucius, have you seen the courtyard?" Mr. Black asked lightly, as desert was cleared, and brandy for he and Mr. Malfoy were produced.

"Unfortunately, no, sir," He responded.

"Show him, Narcissa."

Lucius went to her side of table, and pulled her chair back, before she could rise out of it herself. Placing her hand over the crook of his elbow, and remaining a respectable distance from him, he escorted her from the dining hall. She had expected him to let her go, but he continued until they reached the courtyard.

It had begun to cool, but it was still rather hot here. Her hammock swayed in the soft breeze. Summer was dying.

"Are you prepared for school yet?" She asked.

"Almost," He responded, "I have yet to purchase my books, but everything else is in order."

"Do you know who the Head Boy is?"

Lucius smiled lightly, "Ah, I believe your cousin, Regulus, is Head Boy this year."

She didn't hear any bitterness in his tone, though she searched for it halfheartedly. Being such a good pupil, she had assumed he would want to be Head Boy as well. It surprised her that Regulus would be chosen over Lucius, but Dumbledore was not aware of social status in their community, and therefore she did not think that he would consider the most eligible bachelor to be Head Boy, as he was most likely unaware.

"What of the Head Girl?" She knew it wasn't possibly Bellatrix.

"A Gryffindor," He answered promptly. "Molly Prewett."

"Oh, dear," Narcissa muttered, to which Lucius nodded knowingly.

Headmaster Dumbledore was notorious for forcing houses to intermingle. He was even employing the staff to pair students up with members of the opposite house. There was an expansive margin of separation between she and a regular Gryffindor, and frankly, she did not wish to be exclusive with one.

"Has your sister fallen ill?" Lucius questioned, pulling her out of a reverie.

"No," Narcissa responded, trying to refrain from a sigh, "She is with the Lestrange family this evening."

"I see," He responded, though he looked upon her with an expression of mangled curiosity, "Shall we return for tea?"

"Certainly," Narcissa answered, taking his arm again.

She tried not to doze off, while she sat at a corner of a divan with her right arm supporting her head, and her left balancing a saucer and a cup of tea on her lap. The parlor was quiet, except for the conversation that the men were having, and she felt obliged to excuse herself for bed. She heard the doors open in the entrance hall, and Bellatrix's erratic footsteps echoing off the walls, as she approached them. She entered the room, appearing slightly put-off, and still rather angry with Narcissa.

"Good evening gentleman," Bellatrix greeted, then turned her eyes briefly on Narcissa, "Little sister."

Her eldest sister joined them, but Narcissa knew that, as it was nine, that they would only stay for another half hour, and then return home. Bellatrix was home early, and it made her wonder whether or not the dinner engagement had gone accordingly, or horribly awry. Narcissa slumped in her seat, frowning, and closed her eyes, just for a little while.

She woke in her father's arms, just as he was placing her into her bed, and pulling the covers over her.

"I fell asleep?" She asked drowsily, already slipping back out of consciousness.

"Yes," He answered, "Lucius Malfoy wanted me to relay a 'good night' to you, dear. So good night, from the both of us."

"Good night papa," Narcissa murmured sleepily, and tugged at the covers until they were over her shoulders.

'…._It's summertime, and the living is easy....'_

_ 'Fish are jumping, and the cotton is high....'_


	3. Chapter 3

_My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought,  
As if life's business were a summer mood;  
As if all needful things would come unsought  
To genial faith, still rich in genial good._

_Resolution and Independence_ by William Wordsworth

The emerald curtains hanging around the four-poster bed appeared as jet black phantoms. There were no windows, and therefore no light, except for the slow embers of a long-lasting fire. Narcissa inhaled sharply, tucking the rough cotton blankets around her. She hated the first few days back at Hogwarts. She loathed the adjustments she had to make from her extravagance at home, to the bland, albeit rather eerie, Slytherin common room. She felt suffocated by the dungeon's atmosphere; between the darkness and the repugnant smell of moist air, she was left in slight turmoil. After a few moments of lying on her back, and closing her eyes tightly, she gave up on slumber, and knew that for tonight, it would not call until late in the evening. She pulled her school robes over her dressing gown, slipped her shoes on, and felt her way around in the darkness until she came upon the door. The other girls were quiet; whether they were sleeping, or feeling as she, she was unaware, but no one called upon her to stop as she pulled the heavy door open and slipped out.

The rest of the dungeon was the same. The fire in the common room cast shadows across most of the room, and shone light upon the divans and chairs around the hearth. She wrapped both hands around the railing of the staircase, as she slowly descended the steps with less grace than her mother would have allowed, and finally came to the landing. She let out a breath of air, and strode across the room to the door. The corridors were lit with small torches, so she hadn't any trouble escaping the terrors of the lower caverns of Hogwarts.

Mounting the stairs, and into the Entrance Hall, she inhaled deeply for fresh, dry summer air. Glancing around for Mr. Filch, she tucked herself into the shadows, and then out the oak double doors, to the lawns. Narcissa wrapped her arms around herself, and stood in the bath of moonlight. She surveyed the area, but she could not see much for the darkness, and she knew not if anything had been changed.

"Miss Black?" A startled voice called to her from the darkness.

She whipped around to see Lucius Malfoy, obscured in shadows, except for the effulgence of his hair, which created a halo around him, making him easily recognizable.

"What are you doing out here?" She questioned instinctively, and as the words left her, she regretted them. Of all people she could have spoken rudely to! She had never been whipped before, but she supposed now her mother could do so, and she would deserve such ill treatment.

"I think it's safe for me to ask you the same," Lucius answered coolly, "If you must know, I was in one of the Herbology greenhouses."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows, "You are already beginning your studies?"

He chuckled softly, "No...well, yes. Yes, I am. You may mock me, if you must."

She would not consider herself one with enough empathy to read others very well, but she knew a lie when it presented itself so blatantly. She took a step toward him, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I will not mock you," Narcissa told him, "Dedication is not a trait to mock, is it, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I suppose it isn't, Miss Black," He responded indifferently.

Their formal use of names aggravated her. It was an unspoken rule that most formalities within their communities could be distinguished here, because they were among commoners, and most would find it strange to hear another calling a classmate such.

"Please, call me Narcissa," She told him, a dangerous suggestion at best, considering they were not alliances.

"I prefer Miss Black, if you do not mind," Lucius refused.

She had never heard anyone ignore a request from someone, and thus it baffled her into silence for a few moments, until she could regain a sense of purpose, "Do you prefer that I call you Mr. Malfoy?"

Although, technically, she should have addressed him as Master, since he had gained that title during the winter when he turned seventeen. Narcissa had heard several of their peers addressing him appropriately this evening. Few adults would, for they were did not feel he was yet of age to receive their respect, but he would be his father's equal one day.

"You may call me what you wish, Miss Black. I do not have a preference," He told her, "If you find it prudent to address me as Mr. Malfoy, you may do so. Otherwise, I am not offended by Lucius."

"I may call you Lucius?" She felt a thrill of excitement go through her, though she didn't know what he meant. Were they becoming acquainted? The rules were all so difficult at Hogwarts; one could not be sure of anything here. At home, there were definite guidelines to follow, but since so many of those were broken here, it was difficult to know what another meant by their words.

"Certainly, Miss Black."

Narcissa grew tired of being referred to as "Miss Black" because both of her elder sisters were such. Bellatrix would be Mrs. Lestrange before long, but Andromeda would never marry. She would grow to be an old maid, and die. What of Narcissa? Would she be an old maid? A familiar sting from Bellatrix followed her; she thought she had vanquished her fears, but standing in the darkness with Lucius Malfoy made it all the more prevalent.

"Lucius," She said, and glanced up at him, taking advantage of his permission to use his name, "Would it be irksome of me to ask that you entertain me for awhile? I cannot sleep."

"Of course. What do you wish, Miss Black?" Lucius questioned.

"I would just like your company," She said, "Will you walk with me?"

He reached for her, tucking her hand through the crook of his elbow, and he escorted down the slow rolling hill of the lawns, leading to the lake. She wondered if this were the sort of activity that Bellatrix did on a regular basis; did she always have someone's arm, to escort her wherever she pleased? Narcissa's isolation had not felt as apparent as it did now; her social misfortunes more devastating now than it had been before, when she had not focused upon it. Had she truly been mistreated in her community, for this bare moment was a starving comparison to the hungry she felt for interaction. Such pleasures, walking in the night with another, pleased her so, but she knew it was something that should have been taken for granted, something frequent and unimportant. It was not. To Narcissa, it was paramount.

Lucius was a quiet partner. He let her fold into herself with her miserable thoughts, while he kept a steady pace around the grounds, never saying a word. For that, she was appreciative, because she could not explain herself to a man that was born fabulously popular, and would also die in much the same way. His entire life was encompassed by exuberant celebration. Her meek existence was nothing to strive for. They neared the lake now, and Lucius helped her upon a a worn-down boulder, where she sat and hovered near the shore. After a few seconds of hesitation, he sat next to her.

The lake swayed, and pale reflections of the sliced moon rippled toward them. Narcissa could see silhouettes of their outlines upon the water. She glanced in. Her face was horrifically disfigured upon the waves of the water, and she moved away.

"Do you sit with your sister during mealtimes?" Lucius asked, a sudden question that surprised her, for she had not expected him to speak.

She felt irritated. Any moment that she was with him, he seemed to want to speak about Bellatrix. She had half the mind to rightly ask if he were infatuated with her, for he seemed to think nothing but of her. Though, it seemed Bellatrix was a focal point of many's thoughts; she was even a strong figure in Narcissa's own, for she was the cause of her unraveling. Well, for one to unravel, Narcissa supposed they would had have the ability to become entangled in the first place.

"No, I do not," She answered, "You sit with her, why have you not noticed?"

"Why won't you?" Lucius's ears seemed to fall deaf on her last rude question.

"I'm not allowed," Narcissa told him, truthfully, for she did not have the energy to lie.

"That's absurd. Why ever would you not be allowed to sit with your sister?"

Narcissa wondered if he were blind to the rules. Perhaps he was, since everyone molded themselves around his principles, therefore he had never followed another. He was also an only child, and unschooled in sibling rivalry. The eldest always won. There was no use in fighting them, though Narcissa sometimes made attempts, but no headway. She could not win a battle, and she could not win a war.

"It's complicated," She told him, "I don't think you would understand, even if I explained."

"I see," Lucius said, accepting her vague response, "Your sister does not allow you to sit with her, then?"

"No," Narcissa responded quickly.

Was he rubbing it in?

He seemed to be debating for a moment, and then he said, "What if I gave you permission to sit with me? How could she tell you otherwise?"

Her heart deflated some.

"I...I suppose that would be acceptable," Narcissa said lightly.

Lucius focused on the night sky, searching for a moment, until he found what he was looking for, "Do you know of that constellation?"

"Excuse me?" She questioned, glancing up at the stars above them, and she saw nothing but shimmering lights staring back down at her.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "Never mind then. It's just my favorite. It's called Draco."

"Oh," She said, "That's a nice name for a constellation."

Lucius nodded his head, "It is, isn't?"

He stood abruptly, holding out his hand for her. She let him help her to her feet, and then he tucked his arm through hers. The grounds were exceptionally quiet now; the soft summer breeze had died, and the only sound she heard were their footsteps across the low-trimmed grass, and the few leaves scattered about as autumn made its descent to the throne. They reached the double oak doors, and as quietly as he could, Lucius opened one for her, and slipped inside. They were in the clear.

"Prefects should not be patrolling the dungeons this late," Lucius remarked quietly, as they journeyed down the stairs into darkness.

They walked slowly, attempting to muffle their footsteps. She followed him closely behind, her arm still wrapped around his, as he guided her down the corridor. They reached the Slytherin common room, and he whispered the password. Narcissa blinked; she had forgotten the password already, but she supposed it was possibly a good thing to have found Lucius outside, for she otherwise would have been in a slight jam the next evening when she went back for sleep.

Everyone but a solitary person, her cousin Regulus, was asleep. The Head Boy was sprawled out in front of the fire, and he looked upon them as they entered, and raised his eyebrows.

"Well, well," He said smoothly, sitting up, "I should give the both of you detention."

"Perhaps you should," Lucius responded, "But you won't."

"Trying to test me, Malfoy?" Regulus smirked.

They were speaking in jest, Narcissa decided. Certainly Regulus, one of Lucius's alliances, would not do him any wrong.

"I am not one to test another," He told him, "Another night, I suppose."

"Fine," Regulus said, "Off to bed, Narcissa. I can't fathom what Aunt Druella would do to you if she knew about this...but, I'll keep it a secret."

"Thanks, cousin," Narcissa replied monotonously, and she slipped past both of the men, and up the stairs.

She heard Regulus's voice carry up the girl's dorms corridor, "Narcissa? Are you sure, Lucius?"

Lucius Malfoy's voice was too low for her to intercept, and so she decided to ignore their conversation, and returned to her bed for the evening.


	4. Chapter 4

_We were apart; yet, day by day,_  
_I bade my heart more constant be._  
_I bade it keep the world away,_  
_And grow a home for only thee;_  
_Nor fear'd but thy love likewise grew,_  
_Like mine, each day, more tried, more true._

_To Marguerite_ by Matthew Arnold

"Mustn't toil, girls," Professor McGonagall barked, opening the double oak doors briskly, and stepping out into the night. Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda followed, trunks in tow. Hagrid stood before them, looming over Narcissa with an enormous beard and smile. He swung his lantern that nearly decapitated Andromeda, if it were not for her rather smooth reflexes. Bellatrix sniggered.

"We got ter walk ter Hogsmeade, Professor, but if you want ter go back to bed, I can handle this lot," Hagrid said, "Carriages aren't available."

"Carriages are not _available_?" Bellatrix questioned, her typical dark tone rising several octaves. "What do you _mean_ carriages are not available? I demand one! "

"Thestrals are out in the woods, but if you'd like ter go and track one down..." Hagrid spread one of his wide hands, and pointed across the lawn to the Forbidden Forest, "Fer your carriage, g'head."

"Thestrals?" She raised an eyebrow.

"They're the creatures that pull the carriage," Andromeda spoke, "You can only see them if you have witnessed a death."

Narcissa shuddered. She thought that the carriages were pulled by magic – not something sinister. She wondered how many times she had gazed upon the empty space in front of the carriage, when was really looking at a creature worse than the Grim...

"Hagrid, their parents will be waiting in London for them," McGonagall interrupted Bellatrix's squabbles, "They're expected by dawn. Best hurry them along."

"Right then," Hagrid turned abruptly away from them, and began to stride across the lawn.

They rushed to catch up with him. Bellatrix levitated their trunks, and they bounced in the air, the light escaped them, and only the lantern, which was dangerously swinging from Hagrid's grasp, partially illuminated the darkness. Fang walked alongside Hagrid, but Narcissa felt most safe when she turned her head, and saw the tabby cat slinking five or so feet from them, following at a distance.

Andromeda left Bellatrix and Narcissa's side, and she walked ahead to engage with Hagrid. Narcissa could just barely make out the glare etched into Bellatrix's features, but she imagined it was far worse than what she could see.

"Talking with that oaf," She snarled, "I'll be quite glad when little Andy is permanently burned from the family tree, and she can take _dear_ Sirius with her!"

"Shh!" Narcissa hissed. Clearly, Bellatrix was not aware of McGonagall's presence just behind them.

"Don't shush me," Bella snapped, "You can go join her, if you want. Go, on. Live a life of muggle-loving solitude. Be chums with Hagrid. Wouldn't surprise me if you married a muggle, you're so daft."

"I don't want to _join Andy_!" Narcissa said, "I merely wish you wouldn't speak ill of your sisters when you don't know who could be eavesdropping!"

Bellatrix was quiet for the rest of the walk, until they reached Hogsmeade, and found the train back to London waiting for them. In which case, her few words were, "Thank you, Professor" through gritted teeth, as McGonagall emerged from her Animagus form, and bid them a safe trip home, though her lips were set in a very thin line.

It was remarkable to step onto a train that was to hold only other Slytherins, and each of the girls chose their own compartment, though Bella and Narcissa were across from one another, and each left their door open for conversation. Andromeda went to the opposite end of the train, shut the compartment door, and locked it.

"I can't fathom why mother and father want us home for Halloween," Narcissa spoke, as she thrust her trunk onto one of the benches, and sat opposite of it.

Bellatrix smirked, "The Malfoy's Masquerade, of course."

"Yes, but they have never let us attend before," She noted, perplexed.

"It's an _engagement_ party," Bella laughed hotly as she tossed herself onto a bench. "Our dear Lucius is under a bit of pressure from his parents to marry. He will have to accept a suitor, probably during, or immediately after, the party. There are a few other bachelors that will be doing the same that night, but they aren't important enough. _All_ of the women will be practically hurling themselves at Malfoy, just because he's the richest, most prominent, and let's not forget, the most desperate. He loses his inheritance if he isn't wed in a year."

"How do you know?" Narcissa demanded. She knew her sister exaggerated to the point of blatant lie, and she did not trust her word at this. Surely she would have known – Phoebe Greengrass was a bit of a gossip.

"Because mother and father wouldn't call us home if it weren't," She replied, "No, the masquerade ball isn't something they would take us from our studies to attend, it has to be something very important."

"You're lying," Narcissa refuted, "Perhaps they just want us to experience--"

"I'm not lying!" Bellatrix interjected, "All of the Slytherins have been pulled from school for this night. It's exactly what I think it is."

Narcissa remained stunned. Was it possible that Lucius had been forced to wed so soon? Yet, she had never seen him give an inclination that he was avidly searching for a wife. She would have thought him to be more mindful, but then, perhaps he _was_ looking, just subtly, and not actively reaching for any woman that would have him. She remembered coming upon him in the middle of the night; had he been unable to sleep, because of the task in front of him? Had he, in the midst of her own miseries, been suffering more than she? Had he felt the brunt of unkindness in much the same way she experienced? She scarcely felt sympathy for others, but her heart seemed to wrench at the idea of Lucius suffering the many pangs of society that she was all too familiar with. She was jealous of the other students in other houses_. _ They were composed of very simple people, ones that did not worry of marrying yet, and they were able to romanticize about love, and the many toils of passion. Narcissa did not care for either; she knew that marriage was not a celebration of love to another – it was a binding contract.

She scarcely knew what love was. Narcissa loved her parents, particularly her father, but that was all that she had ever experienced. What _was_ love, anyway? Why did she, during frightful nights of darkness, coerce herself into wanting love too? Love could not be explained to her in the many books in the library, nor could anyone around her explain to her what love felt like, for none had clasped in their hands. Did it scare away all of the dark parts of someone's heart; the hurt parts, the loneliness, and the fear? Did it fix all the things in a person that was broken, or missing, and make them whole again? There were so many broken things in the world, did that mean that love was fleeting, or rare? Love did not seem like it was enough for her. Yet, she knew it was something she would never experience, and therefore always yearn.

Bellatrix snored lightly from opposite of the hall, and Narcissa found herself to be more immersed in her thoughts, than to note the annoyance of the noise. She thought of walking the lake with Lucius, and her revolting reflection in the pools of water, and she wondered if that would ever happen to her again. Would she grow to be an old maid, watching the mistress that married Lucius walking about Diagon Alley with him? Would she be one of the strange vendors that walked along the cobbled streets of Knockturn Alley?

She looked across at Bellatrix, and had the sudden urge to hex her. It was, after all, her fault. The younger siblings were destined to be less worthy than the eldest. She walked along in her shadow, and just hoped that one day the sun would shine on her too. Maybe just a single ray, just a small amount of light. Narcissa knew it foolish to dream, but just a small patch of sunshine in all of the darkness would be enough to light the path she needed to see.

The train arrived in London, slowing to a stop, and jolting, which woke her. Around her, she heard the voices of the other Slytherins rousing and collecting their belongings. She followed Bellatrix onto the station. A series of pops echoed around them, as seventh years Apparated away, because their parents had not come to collect them. The crowd dispersed around her, skirting past Lucius, who stood at the center of the platform. She had expected to see him pale, tense, and strained, but he was calm. She stood opposite of him, forty feet away. He sensed her gaze just as he began to Apparate, but then he vanished.

"Hope he splinches," A voice next to her said gruffly.

Narcissa started. Candra Zabini stood next to her, arms crossed, as he watched Crabbe trying to Apparate. His face was deeply purple, and his eyes were squeezed shut. His knuckles cracked as he balled his hands into fists.

"That would be unpleasant," She murmured.

Candra shrugged, "Adds to the appeal, I suppose. Anyway, I need a good laugh. All this marriage is really getting me down. You up too?"

"Um, no. I'm not yet old enough to be actively searching," Narcissa said, shrugging, "I'm not fifteen."

"Oh. Yeah, but you're Lucius's girl, aren't you? So you don't have to worry, right?" He asked.

"I wasn't aware that I was....no, I'm not. I'm not Lucius's girl," She replied.

"Are you sure? He talks about you sometimes," Candra grinned, "_'I saw your sister today, Miss Bellatrix. She looked sad. I wish I could assist her.' _or '_Why do you insist that your sister not sit with us, Miss Bellatrix? She has remarkable manners, and it isn't as though she takes up so much space.' _Why so sad, Miss Black?"

"I-I'm not sad!" Narcissa stammered, more surprised that Lucius had addressed her sister about seating arrangements during mealtimes, than humiliation at the sudden awareness of how everyone saw her.

She hurried away from Candra, not that his raucous laughter didn't carry to her even as she closed the distance between them, and found her parents and Andromeda waiting on her. _He just wanted to laugh_, Narcissa thought, exhaling angrily, and fighting back tears. She didn't like being teased, especially not by a cruel Zabini.

Her parents touched each of their shoulders, and her feet swirled above the ground below her. A tight feeling in her stomach thrilled through her, and she put her hands over her eyes quickly, preferring to whirl around blindly, than look upon the shapes and blurs of colour as she side-along Apparated with her family.

The manor loomed before them, dark and sleek, as light rain fell. The sun was just awakening, and small swirls of colour touched the overcast darkness. The gates slid open, and they passed through them, luggage in tow. The stone courtyard seemed lonely in the autumn; only vacant red and gold leaves lay scattered about. The familiar sight and sound of the fountains spraying was absent, and in its place came a heavy silence. Narcissa hurried inside, tired from the journey, and aware that tomorrow was Halloween, and there would be much to prepare for.

Bidding her parents goodnight, she followed Andromeda up the stairs to their chambers. She pushed the bedroom door open, taking in the darkened threshold of her room. Everything was in place, except for the sudden flash of golden eyes that looked up at her from the middle of her bed. She screamed, throwing her trunk to the floor and climbing up her vanity dresser.

At once, she heard footsteps hurrying down the hall, and her father wrenched open the door.

"What's wrong dar-- oh, oh, my!" He began to laugh, though more cackle, "It's okay, Cissy. We bought you an early birthday present, that's all."

He helped her off of the table, and lit the chandelier above them, so that light cast upon a small brown cat sprawled out on her bed, eyes fixed upon her, and purring loudly.

"Merlin's beard," Narcissa breathed, reaching a shaky hand toward the cat.

She felt his coat – soft, like silk. He managed to purr even more loudly, and she heard her father chuckle as he left the room. Narcissa, whose heart was still beating rather profoundly, climbed into bed.

"I thought you were a werewolf," She told the cat, as he settled at the end of the bed, and closed his eyes. "And if you think about attacking me in the night, I'll curse your whiskers off. Regardless of the underage wizardry laws or not."

At this, the cat pranced along the blanket, until he lay next to her, buzzing. She tentatively pet him with her fingers. She had never had anything to love before, and moreover, never had anything greet her with such uncomplicated affection.

By midday, her mother was ushering her out of bed by yanking the curtains open, and then her hangings, shedding painfully bright light onto her eyes. She was forced into the bath tub, where House Elves insisted upon scrubbing her (per her mother's orders) as quickly and effectively as they could, as Narcissa liked to idle in the bath. Her skin was scrubbed raw, and then she was prompted back into her room for lotion and powder. Her mother was waiting with silk-woven dress robes of vibrant green.

"Wow," She breathed, as her mother had never chosen anything so extravagant for her.

"The Masquerade is lavish," Mrs. Black explained, lacing Narcissa into the robes, and motioning for her to sit in front of her mirror. She began to do her hair by hand, something her mother usually only did for Bellatrix, as her hair was unruly. She immediately found this unpleasant, as her mother tugged so hard that her eyes were blurry with tears from the pain.

"There will be many, many eligible bachelors looking for wives this evening, Cissy," Her mother said, "You must look and behave your best, understood? Even if you aren't fifteen until next week, women outnumber men this generation..you must be quick. Make yourself recognizable now."

"Yes mother," Narcissa responded, feeling her heart sink, and her stomach twist into knots.

Her mother pinned all of her hair so tight that her head pounded from the pressure, and then she handed her a mask, with emeralds glittering off the surface; one in which she would have immense difficulty seeing out of, because of the small tilted slits for eyes.

"Wear it until it feels natural," Her mother instructed, as she whisked away to attend to her other siblings. Bellatrix need not worry, she was attending as though it were any other ball, for she was engaged. And her mother held insane hope that Andromeda would attend and find a pureblood bachelor to marry, but so far Andromeda had refused, despite being threatened and punished by both her mother and now her father.

Ignoring the screaming from down the hall, Narcissa walked the length of her room. The mask felt heavy on her face, and she could scarcely distinguish the strange shapes and colours. Twice she nearly toppled out of her window, and only managed to keep herself inside because the cat mewed loudly from her bed. She knocked over her vanity table. It crashed to her feet, and she wondered how she was going to walk amongst people this way. She imagined wrecking every single one of the Malfoy heirlooms in the entrance hall, and shredding the tapestries. She supposed Lady Malfoy would muster enough strength to kill her.

Bellatrix sauntered into the room, red mask tied around her face, and her dark, massively curly hair flowing around her. She was dressed in scarlet robes again, as it was her best colour, and she laughed coldly at Narcissa.

"Poor girl," She said haughtily, as she helped Narcissa reassemble the vanity mirror and put the things back where they belonged. "So clumsy, no man will want you."

"Mother and father still arguing with Andy?" She changed the subject.

"Can't you hear them?" Bellatrix retorted, "Surely that mask doesn't make you deaf as well?"

"I wish she would just consent," Narcissa said, diverting her sister's insult, "Everything would be much easier."

"She's always been a problem," Bella shrugged, "She's upset because she so desperately wanted to _learn_. Come with me, we'll walk the lawn, it's almost the size of the Malfoy's entrance hall."

They both cheated as they went down the stairs and outside by taking their masks off. Her hammock was still swinging in the corner of the lawn, but she ignored the urge to climb into it. They stepped onto the cold grass, barefooted, and secured their masks again. She walked the length of the lawn, this time focusing more, as her mother would be livid if she mussed up her robes. She heard Bellatrix stumble, laugh maniacally, and continue. Narcissa tripped, went sprawling forward, and her hammock caught her. She pushed herself off, and continued.

Outside, she couldn't hear Andy screaming about the horrible life they had, or her parent's retorts. She had only Bellatrix, who seemed to want to focus on something else also, and in this way, they were equal. But in only this.

"Girls!" Mrs. Black swept onto the lawns after several moments of practice, and they heard the door bang against the wall. Both of them pulled off their masks. "Hurry and collect your shoes, it is nearly time to leave."

She and Bellatrix raced to their bedroom. Bellatrix won, but only because she pushed Narcissa into a portrait that proceeded to scold her, and when she ran away, it followed her down the corridor, swearing at her.

"When we get home," She heard her father call, "You must be gone. Understood?"

"WITH PLEASURE!" Andromeda shouted, "You are no longer my father!"

Narcissa flinched as her sister slammed her bedroom door. Her mother snapped about her shoes again, and she went to her room to collect them. Her head hurt, her eyes were strained. And she wasn't sure if the tears were from the pain, or Andromeda leaving the family.

The carriage ride was uncomfortable. Lady Black glared furiously at the space above her remaining daughters's head, her father's gaze remained trained to the window, and there was so much space between Bellatrix and Narcissa that they squished themselves against opposing sides of the carriage. Even Bella, who had boldly proclaimed she would be more than happy to see Andromeda go, remained quiet and no longer smug. As for Narcissa, she finally felt the hole in her heart where she should have always kept Andy, and loved her despite her treacherous thoughts. It hurt deeply, but she knew she had no right to cry. She had been just as much a traitor to her sister as her sister had been to the world.

The Malfoy Manor didn't seem to glow as prominently as it had to her before. Her loss had put her in a stupor, but she clambered out of the carriage despite this, squaring her shoulders, and prepared to do as she had been instructed – trained, she supposed, from birth. She swept behind Bellatrix, hyper aware of the space in between them that should have been Andromeda's, and she noticed how strange it was to be second best instead of unheard of.

Master and Lady Malfoy waited at the door, both masked. Lady Malfoy was sitting, and appeared to be in no better condition, though Narcissa could remark that she did not look worse. She greeted them amicably, and followed her only sister into the hall. It was more crowded than it had been during the summer. Through the slits in her mask, she saw great, gleaming columns that touched the cavern ceiling. Silk threads wrapped around each column, rippling along the floor into elaborately woven rugs. The floors were sparkling, carved of marble in various hues. Extravagant chandeliers lit the chamber, and in the midst of the hall, robes of various colours were swirling against each other, sprawling out in a deep, rhythmic pattern. Narcissa struggled through the labyrinth of people, catching sight of bright lights or colour. Grand tapestries hung from the ceiling, towering above her.

She stumbled into the refreshment table, knocking over several goblets onto themselves. She watched a House Elf rush forth, and the mess was cleared, and goblets were replaced in the matter of seconds. She reached for a goblet, drank carelessly, and let it topple off onto the floor, as she missed the table. She walked away, trying to navigate across the hall. How were people supposed to find their spouses if they could not see the floor in front of them?! She imagined Andromeda would scoff, and laugh as she watched everyone stumble across her path. Andromeda would not wear a mask, she would find it too ridiculous. Narcissa found a seat along the outer edge of the dance floor, and decided that sitting was safer than trying to walk about. If her future husband wanted to call upon her, she supposed he would be compelled to find her sitting, at least until the unmasking. The bright lights and noise hurt, and she desperately wished to seek refuge in the foyer, where it was dimly lit, and quiet. The room grew silent as the Malfoy's entered. She squinted through her mask; Lady Malfoy assumed her place at her chair, and guests moved to speak with her. Mr. Malfoy swept the floor, talking with guests. The Masquerade could have been more important, but the practices were the same as any dinner party.

She searched the hall for Lucius, but she couldn't find him, and it appeared there were others seeking him as well. She wondered if he had merely fabricated a grand disguise. She continued to look for him; the traditional waltz proceeded, and the Halloween festivities were about to begin, and the unmasking would come soon enough, yet the absence of Lucius was clear throughout the party. She caught an angry expression upon Master Malfoy, as he pulled her father out of mid-dance with her mother, and began whispering something to him. In turn, her father spoke softly to her mother, and the both of them scanned the room, until their eyes fell upon her. Startled, she jerked out of her seat, aware that her mother had told her to avidly search for a husband, and that she had disobeyed her. Through the throngs of people, her mother found her, snatched her by the arm, and pulled her out into the foyer.

She closed the door with a snap that echoed around the room. The darkness cooled her flushed skin, bathing her in a calamity she was incapable of possessing in the midst of a party of such a large scale.

"Master Malfoy has something to ask of you," Her voice came out in a serious hush.

"O-oh," Narcissa replied, taken aback, as she had expected to be scolded for sitting.

"He says you are acquainted with Lucius," She said, "Is this true?"

"Hardly, mother, I have only spoken with him a few times, and--"

"That's good enough," She interrupted, "Go. Find him, and coerce him to attend the party. His inheritance depends upon it."

"Why me?" Narcissa questioned, "Why not Bellatrix, or one of his close friends?"

"They would be missed," Her mother replied coldly, "You won't be."

Narcissa swallowed hard, watching her mother slip back inside the door, leaving her alone in the dark foyer. So she was given the task to find Lucius in his own home, because she didn't have a reputable class, and therefore no one knew of her existence Excellent.

She pulled her mask off of her face, and with it, she tugged her hair down, lessening the throbbing pain at her skull. She imagined a mansion as old as the Malfoy's would have more secret passageways than she would like to consider, and she could assume that Lucius knew of them. She had read that there were twenty-four rooms and four floors, though the fourth floor was composed entirely of an expansive library. With a sigh, she searched the ground floor rooms first; the lounge, Lady Malfoy's parlour, the dining room, and the kitchen.

Then, she ventured upstairs. The corridors were lit in much the same fashion as the foyer. She opened each door, coming upon spare bedrooms, or lounges. Some rooms held nothing; they were dark and empty. She went up to the next floor, where she found Master Malfoy's study, his bed chamber, and bathroom. Once, she thought she saw the outline of a person, but it was just a heavy curtain, stirred by the breeze coming from an open window. Nonetheless, it gave her enough of a fright to start and slam the door shut quickly.

On the third floor, she hoped she had more luck, as now she had more qualms than before; her head hurt, her eyes were tired, and now her feet and legs were complaining. She removed her shoves, and held them in the same hand she held her mask in, as she opened the doors with the others. At last, she opened a door which must have been Lucius's bedroom, as torches were still lit, and the walls were encompassed by enormous bookcases. There was a small stone staircase leading to an upper level of the bedroom, where he slept, she imagined. He had converted the bottom half to a study. There were plants on several table surfaces around the room, and leather couches around a fireplace. She noticed that some of the plants were ones that frequently tried to murder her in Herbology class.

She climbed the stairs. Doors were ajar, leading to the balcony, where cold wind seeped in and chilled her. He was leaning against the thick concrete boundary, looking down upon the garden. His hair glowed in the moonlight, and she cleared her throat as she approached, so as not to frighten him.

"I was wondering when someone would find me," He said, turning slowly, but when he saw her standing there, he seemed surprised. "Excuse me, Miss Black. I hadn't thought it would be you they would send. I'm sure you have been searching for awhile?"

"Long enough," She said, glancing up at him.

"Ah," Lucius sat upon the balcony rail, "Then I am sorry to have wasted much of your evening."

"Not wasted. I have a comprehensive outline of the Malfoy Manor now – more so than many of the guests, at least," Narcissa said, smiling.

"Yes, yes I suppose that you do. How was the waltz?" He asked, laughing.

"I didn't see it," She answered, indicating to her mask.

He frowned, "You have once again been robbed of a waltz at my manor? That displeases me."

Lucius swept past her, and she followed him down the small staircase tentatively. With a wave of his wand, the couches and plants sprang aside. She could hear music floating up from downstairs, and as he offered his hand to her, she felt her heart leap, and collapse slightly.

"Oh, oh no... it's quite fine...once was enough, Sir," Narcissa said feebly, "And besides, your father told my mother that if I didn't find you, and force you downstairs, then you were going to lose your inheritance."

Lucius smirked, "How dreadful. You must be despaired. I will consent after we waltz. Come along, Miss Black."

He offered his hand once again. Narcissa glanced nervously around the room, and caught her frightened expression in his mirror. Her hair was messy, her robes rumpled, and she looked rather haggard, but he wanted to dance with her, and she couldn't find it in her aching head or limbs to tell him no. She placed her palm into his, and he pulled her in. At once, she was gliding about the room again, watching the bookcases blend together intrinsically, catching small snippets of them dancing in the mirror, and she almost looked remarkable, with her hair swaying, robes swirling. She almost looked like someone important.

"Are you frightened?" Narcissa asked him, as they spun and spun across the lavish rugs that stretched the length of the walls.

"Of what?"

"Marriage," She said softly.

"Not at all," Lucius admitted, but then he sighed, "But I am too tired to marry today." He said the last in jest, to which Narcissa laughed.

"And I am too young to marry today," She replied.

"I agree," Lucius said, smiling. "Will you be old enough to marry tomorrow?"

"No," Narcissa replied, "I will be too old to marry by then."

"Ah, time is fleeting," He said, spinning her in fast loops across the center of the room.

"Will you have enough energy to marry tomorrow?"

Lucius's smile widened, "I'm afraid not. Tomorrow I will have _too _much energy – I might knock over a few tables in excitement."

"Don't worry, I have already knocked them over tonight," She told him.

He laughed loudly, "Have you? In haste to be married?"

"Quite the opposite, in haste to flee marriage, but a lack of perpetual sight became my most vigorous motivation," She responded, "My apologies for any silver that your House Elves will have to mend."

"I see," He said, as the danced stopped, and he bowed to her. In the casual setting, she had forgotten her formalities, and she quickly dipped into a curtsey. "Never mind the silver, it isn't important, and the House Elves keep whatever is left over from parties."

Narcissa inhaled deeply, "The dance is over, you must follow me downstairs."

"My inheritance is at stake," Lucius told her, as he smiled mysteriously, for himself mostly, she assumed. "But I must digress, will you accompany me? I want to show you something."

"What is it?"

"Something of a splendor," Lucius explained, though not very well, "Come along, Miss Black?"

"Your father will be intolerable," Narcissa warned.

"I cannot foresee him being any more so than he is naturally," Lucius responded. He held his arm out to her, and she couldn't reject it. The part of her that her mother had guided, told her that an available and revered bachelor was asking for her presence, but there was another hidden and irrational part of her that ushered her forward, wrapped her arm through his, and forced her feet to match his pace.

He walked her to the end of the corridor, tapped his wand against the stone wall, and it melted into a darkened staircase. Narcissa had assumed correctly about secret passageways, and of Lucius's knowledge, then.

"Do you have passageways at your manor?" He asked, guiding her down the stairs. He lit torches with his wand as they passed them.

"Not at mine," She said, "But Aunt Walburga supposedly has some. If she does, I imagine they are not this elaborate."

"I suppose there is more space for them here," Lucius commented. "Do you like it here?"

"No, this staircase is kind of frightening," Narcissa answered honestly.

He laughed, "I'm sorry, I misspoke. Do you like the entirety of the manor?"

"Oh, well, yes it's lovely," She said.

"What would you change?" He asked.

"More windows," Narcissa responded, "The corridors are dark, and some of the rooms do not even have them. Natural light is beautiful."

They reached the end of a stone wall, and it melted back behind them. They were hit with the force of such bright light that both of them shielded their eyes.

"There's your light, Miss Black," Lucius said.

She saw where they had emerged. They were just behind Lady Malfoy's chair. The unmasking had already taken place, and she now saw dozens of unmasked couples and vivid dance robes spinning. She followed Lucius as he slipped past his mother, through the crowd, and then into the garden.

"You're evading the party once more?" Narcissa asked, exasperated.

He smiled, "Not evading. Observing." He transfigured two chairs in front of the wide-paned windows, and motioned for her to sit. "I've never watched a dance before, I've always been a participant."

"It's beautiful," Narcissa said, "It always is."

"What is your favorite dance to watch?" Lucius asked her.

"The waltz," She said.

"And your favorite to dance?"

"The waltz."

"Good choice," Lucius replied, and settled into the chair.

They watched the couples float across the floor. She saw Bellatrix and her betrothed, her mother and father, many of the Zabini's...the sight was familiar, because she had been watching her entire life. She wondered what it felt like to be viewing the scene for the first time, as Lucius was. And she once again wondered what it would be like to dance within them.

"Do you dislike dancing?" Narcissa began to ask, but he cut her off.

"We can go inside," Lucius turned to her as though hearing her thoughts, "But I shan't be able to dance with you without near constant interruptions."

"I do not wish to dance," Narcissa said, "I have danced once tonight, and that is enough."

"Shall we tempt my disinheritance?" Lucius asked her, a sly smile crossing his face.

"How?" She asked.

"Let us be excessively rude," He said, helping her to her feet. He led her down the garden path to the farthest southern end, where a door within the stone wall was closed and covered by vines. He brushed the plants aside, heaving his shoulder against the door, and then assisted her as she walked through. They were shrouded by a thick forest of trees, and a near tangible darkness. Everything had gone suddenly silent, deafening the party behind them.

Lucius moved swiftly ahead on the thin path, flicking his wand, and transfiguring bulbs of pale light above their heads. She followed as quickly as she could, holding her dress robes up so she could move at ease. She abandoned her mask midway through the forest, and then her shoes a few yards later.

Finally, he stopped in the midst of a clearing. Narcissa glanced from behind his shoulder. A pool of water rippled over large boulders. Lucius transfigured more bulbs to light up the area, and when he held his hand out for her, she didn't hesitate to waltz again.


	5. Chapter 5

_They name thee before me,_

_A knell to mine ear;_

_A shudder comes o'er me.._

_Why wert thou so dear?_

_They know not I knew thee,_

_Who knew thee too well..._

_Long, long shall I rue thee,_

_Too deeply to tell._

_When We Two Parted_, by Lord Byron

Steam billowed from the scarlet train, as the Slytherins (most of whom looked quite discontented to return) bade their families goodbye, and drifted to a compartment inside. Narcissa stepped onto the platform at her father's side.

"A word before you go, Cissy," Mr. Black said, drawing her into him as he turned away from the family.

He stopped far from her mother and sister, though they were watching, and began to say, "I think it is time that I give you instructions for the future, ones far better than your mother can provide. I will not repeat myself. I want you not to feel sad, guilty, or angry about what many may say to you now or in the future, nor take to heart the things Bellatrix will say or do – and she will do something . I want you to understand, Cissy, that if a man asks for your hand in marriage, and you do not find him suitable, despite his wealth or valour, then reject him. Many women are not remarkable until they refuse what is easy, and discover what is beautiful."

"I'm sorry, I do not understand," She replied, "I am the youngest, I do not have a choice-"

"But you _do_ have a choice," Master Black refuted, "So I will ask you to believe that the when the time comes, and a man stands before you offering you his world, and if that world is not one in which you love, then you have the power to say no, despite what your mother says."

"Why do you tell me this, father?" Narcissa questioned, "All my life, I have been told that I must marry the first man that comes along; that I am incapable of doing any better, for I am the youngest, and therefore the least remarkable."

"Because you are remarkable, child," He said, and though he was smiling, it was strained and for the most part, rather sad.

She nodded her head, though she knew naught why he was telling her such things, (as preposterous as they were, in any case!) but she knew that her father had never been wrong before, and therefore she would not believe him to be so now. They moved back across the platform, where her mother now stood quite alone, as Bellatrix had stormed off in a huff.

Narcissa curtsied to her parents, in which they returned the gesture adequately. She picked up her trunk, and walked across the platform. Midway through, she turned her head and glanced at her father over her shoulder. People passed, obscuring her vision of him, but she saw his smile clearly through the crowd of people. Her mother looked devastated – for once, Narcissa took that as a good sign. Nothing good could ever come to her when her mother was cheerful, but the world was brought to Bellatrix's feet. Perhaps it was Narcissa's turn for the world. Or maybe just a part of it.

She found a compartment, where only Mara Parkinson and Phoebe Greengrass sat. She pulled open the door, and stowed her trunk away. She took a seat next to Mara, who was glaring murderously at Phoebe.

"You truly are the most daft person in _all _of Britain," Mara snapped, "Your father is daft, your mother is a harlot, and your sister is too much of a prat to even recognize her own stupidity."

The two girls juxtaposed one another; Mara was distinctly beautiful; her eyes were vivid blue, her hair was quite fair, and she was petite. While Phoebe was dark-featured, tall, and plain in stark comparison, though not unattractive.

"And you are a remarkably unpleasant person, Mara," Phoebe said conversationally.

"Leave my compartment at once," She hissed, "Your stupidity is filling the room. Narcissa can hardly breathe."

"I am breathing just fine-"

"See? She's suffocating in your idiocy. Leave."

Shunted, Phoebe rose to her feet, swinging her hair across her shoulder, and exited. Narcissa bit her lip. Mara _was _unpleasant, but Phoebe was also daft. She could not decide who was more deserving of ill treatment, but she did not wish to sit with either of them.

The compartment door slid open, and Candra Zabini loomed over them, grinning.

"Phoebe Greengrass just ran crying into my compartment," He laughed, and sat on the bench across them. Mara tensed again, coiling, prepared to strike. "Mara, you are one sassy child."

"You make me want to projectile vomit," She said casually, her lips set in a firm line.

Candra glanced over at Narcissa, "Lucius was on his way up the corridor. He was doing Prefect duties. He'll be here soon, I invited him."

"You invited not only yourself, but another, in my compartment?" Mara questioned, her eyes narrowed. "You are nearly as foolish as Phoebe."

Zabini laughed, as though he enjoyed nothing more than to be insulted by her. Several minutes of their banter ensued, and Narcissa stared out into the corridor, in a vain attempt to rid their noise from her thoughts.

"Mara," Candra stood up, "Follow me, I need to ask your dear cousin a question."

"I don't want to talk to that disgusting bat," She said, crossing her arms. But she had stood, and she followed him from the compartment.

Now, it was Lucius who slid the door open, and he smirked as he took the now vacant bench across from Narcissa, "I see another horrid generation of Zabini's before us."

"You do?" Narcissa asked.

"Candra has three days to find a bride," He supplied, "If Mara accepts, I believe the tradition of erratically violent and ill-tempered Zabini's will flourish between the two."

"I can't see her accepting without confrontation," Narcissa.

And it did indeed appear that she had rejected him, as she stormed past the compartment, looking nonplused, as though he were the single most vile wizard she had lain eyes upon. He followed her, laughing loudly.

"You disgust me!" Mara yelled.

Lucius crossed his arms across his chest, and looked out at the darkened sky, "She'll wake the whole train that way."

"Not the entire train," She said, "I'm not asleep."

"Of course," Lucius answered pleasantly, resting his head against the window.

But _he_ soon fell asleep. Only the moon shone through the window, casting him aglow. She thought of the masquerade, and how reluctant he seemed to join the festivities, and once more she felt insatiably curious as to _why_ he seemed to hesitant to engage himself in the world in which he belonged. It piqued her curiosity more than ever. And though she knew it was ridiculous to consider, sometimes she wondered if he held affection for her; perhaps he did not look to her for a bride, but she would suffice with friendship.

He reminded her of summer. Warm and graceful, a period of time in which bliss was easily obtained, and the world seemed to burst in life and colour, but yet he retreated to winter, found such solitude in the silence that it brought. And once more, she found herself questioning why he was this way, or better, who was he? She scarcely knew the man, yet she seemed to be in his company more often as of late. He was immeasurable, she could not find any object or person to compare. And though unattainable, she found it in herself to hold affection for him, though she was unsure of what kind it was, or even what it should have felt like.

She hardly slept through the night. Each moment she tried, she became immersed in her thoughts, and found herself much too alert, and incapable of slumber. Lucius slept quietly, only waking once to lie down across the bench, and even then he was only half-conscious of those actions. It neared midnight when the train began to slow, and she imagined it was Lucius' job to wake the others. Narcissa rose to her feet, reaching across, and gently shaking his shoulder.

"Lucius, we are nearly in Hogsmeade," She said, "The train is slowing."

He jolted to his feet, suddenly wide awake. They were at an appropriate waltzing distance from each other, she noted, just enough for them to curtsey and bow. She was spiraling out of control; half hoping that he would kiss her, or show any sort of affection toward her that was not primarily out of respect for her family, but she knew he wouldn't. He abruptly left the compartment, strolling down the corridor, calling to the other Slytherins to rouse and gather their belongings.

The Slytherin Common room was familiar; even the emerald hangings around her bed were an accustomed sight, though she felt like she had been absent for years instead of two days. She settled into bed. Her cat, whom her mother had named Poppy, was crouched underneath her bed, and frequently took to pouncing on some of the girls. For most of the night, she laid awake in wonder, until exhaustion finally poured over her.

Phoebe woke her in the morning. It seemed most of the girls had overslept, and she joined the ranks of frantic preparation for the morning schedule. Narcissa had Double Potions with Slughorn that morning, and she was dreading it, not because she loathed the subject, but because the professor was a right git. Quickly, she brushed through her hair, dressed, picked up her books, and headed toward the hall for breakfast.

The other houses were almost finished, but most of the Slytherins were just joining in the Great Hall. She saw an astonishing sight before her; Mara Parkinson and Candra Zabini sat close to one another, whispering quietly. Mara sat in between Candra and her cousin, Pearl. Narcissa felt downtrodden. One of her alliances had become elite in the matter of hours. Bellatrix had already accepted her as an alliance, therefore severing the one she and Narcissa had. She sat in the middle of the table, glancing across to the Ravenclaw table in search of Andy, but she was nowhere to be found.

Lucius sauntered up the length of the table; he seemed to be one of the more well-rested individuals. She reached across the table to pour herself tea, and while stirring her sugar and cream in, Lucius sat down in front of her. She found herself frozen, spoon still in her cup, and her fingers clenched around the handle.

"Good morning," He said, reaching into the inner-pocket of his robes, "And Happy Birthday."

"...Thank you," Narcissa fumbled with her words, she even dropped her spoon onto the floor.

He produced a letter from his robes, and slid it over to her, "I think, perhaps, this gift is suitable. Please do not read it now, but perhaps later when you need it."

"You shouldn't have," She said quickly, pushing the letter back to him, praying he had not decided to bequeath her with galleons, how ashamed her family would be...

"It's just a bit of parchment," He replied, pushing it back until the tips of their fingers touched one another, and then he flashed her a bright smile, "Are you still too old to marry?"

"I am already an old maid, sir," Narcissa stated, "Do you still have too much energy to marry?"

"No, but today I am too distracted to marry," He told her, "Perhaps tomorrow."

The post arrived soon after. She was surprised he remained seated in the middle section, which clearly irked some of the Slytherins, as it made them unsure of what to do with themselves. Narcissa refused to glance at her sister, whom she was sure was glaring, but she did catch a sly smirk from Candra as he and Mara walked past them.

She had several more packages and letters to open. Most of the letters were from family, or from some of father's alliances, wishing her a happy birthday out of courtesy. She was not aware of many of them; she had never met them, and father hardly spoke of them, but nevertheless, they sent her letters each year, as though they were thoughtful and kind. Aunt Walburga sent her some sweets, and a few books to read. Her mother had given her new slippers, and a new set of pearl necklaces to wear at Christmas (Bellatrix had ripped hers from her neck last December), but also noted that her Christmas gown was at home. Her father sent her galleons for shopping in Hogsmeade, and a silver-band ring adorned by a sapphire gem.

"From your father?" Lucius questioned, as she opened the box and found the ring.

She nodded her head, "Yes."

"It's quite lovely," He said, "How is your father?"

She almost said, "He's gone batty!" regarding his most recent advice that he had given her on the platform, but instead she shrugged and said, "He fairs the same as ever."

"Which I assume is quite well," Lucius said, inclining his head, "With such brilliant women in his family."

"You flatter us so, Lucius," She said, glancing at the table, and playing with the edge of his letter.

"I'm not one for compliments, Miss Black," He remarked, "I prefer truth. I must be leaving, though. I've still a letter to write for my father, so if you will excuse me..."

She watched him rise from the table, and leave the Great Hall. He scarcely noticed who stopped to stare, either in wonder or hatred. It appeared he was already quite engaged within his own thoughts, and Narcissa began to think that perhaps that was the best place to be, unless one's thoughts were as pessimistic as her own. She finished her breakfast as quickly as possible, though she was one of the last straggling few to leave.

Slughorn found it amusing to educate them in a variety of environments, and today they were on the second floor. For the most part, it was inconvenient, and only his select group of favorites were informed of exactly where the location he planned to teach was ahead of time. The location usually spilled, and some got to class on time, but usually there were several that either never made it, or came in excessively late. She sighed, rounding the stairs and continuing down the corridor, where Slughorn had elaborately decorated the hall in bright plum banners to contrast with Myrtle's woeful moans.

The classroom door was open, and steam was already rising from several cauldrons. She sighed inaudibly, and took her place next to Phoebe and a Zabini that was in her year. She half-listened to their gossip about Mara Parkinson, but she began to focus when they were discussing the Malfoy's masquerade.

"Lucius was absent for the _entire_ party," Phoebe said in a low whisper, dropping the incorrect amount ingredient into her cauldron, causing it to sizzle. Narcissa knew it was wrong because she had actually read the section of her book – much to her surprise. Though, admittedly, she had done so out of boredom. "Regulus told me he has a secret lover from France, and that he escaped that night to see her!"

Zabini seemed to be the only one intelligent in the matter, as he plainly announced, "French girls weren't even at the masque. I _would_ have known."

"Regulus wouldn't _lie_," Phoebe argued.

"Yes he would," Zabini retorted, "He's always trying to cover up what his cousins are doing – say, Narcissa, where were you that night?"

"I was in the garden," She answered quickly, "I didn't feel very well."

Her cauldron seemed to be sufficient for Slughorn, as he did not remark upon it as he examined it, but shuddered at Phoebe's mess. Zabini received ten points for a perfect potion he hardly paid attention to while doing. She quickly cleaned her area, and packed away, before Slughorn could announce that class was over.

Narcissa was just fifteen; fifteen as of today; she was a year older, and even more of an eligible bride, but she felt neither more wise, nor old, and thus she remained empty inside.

Rain began pattering upon the Herbology greenhouse as she settled into the classroom. Narcissa could see only a blur of colour bleeding down the glass from inside, as she pulled on her gloves, and attempted to tend a vicious Fanged Geranium. Water condensed against the glass, dripping upon the students in a _tap_-_splat_-_tap-tap_ cadence. Narcissa slapped a Venomous Tentacula as one of its vine stretched toward her fingers unsubtly. She shared a table with two Ravenclaw girls, one of which was a prefect complaining of sleep deprivation.

"It's just that the _Slytherins_," She paused long enough to grimace at Narcissa, "Won't patrol. Malfoy keeps skiving every night that it's his turn."

"It is his seventh year," The other consoled, "He has N.E.W.T's and all."

"Oh, please! I have O.W.L's, patrol duties, and Quidditch practice," She replied scathingly, "What has him so busy?"

If Narcissa were one of her elder sisters, she would have retorted with a profound remark to stifle them into silence. Oh, who was she kidding? Bellatrix would have cursed them, and Andromeda would have cheered. She possessed neither the desire or ability, and thus she remained quiet; a coward before two girls that, if they were aware, were insulting a man with more power than a prefect could ever hold. It was no surprise that he would not regard such duties, when he had far better responsibilities to attend to.

The girls glanced at her again, and then the prefect said in a hushed whisper, "Andy moved out of the Black house last weekend, did you know?"

"Yes, she said it was absolutely foul living with...you know, _them_," The other girl murmured.

Narcissa inhaled sharply, and spoke through clenched teeth, "I'm sorry to say that your hushed conversation is blatantly heard."

"Why did she leave, anyway?" A Hufflepuff asked, as he reached around her for a Geranium.

"She wanted to," Narcissa responded indifferently. Her family's reputation was not about to be soiled a common person.

In Andromeda's absence, she had gone from heartbroken, angry, heartbroken once again, and now she was making an effort to forget her all together. She was _gone_, and there was nothing she could do to correct the crime that had been committed. She knew she was partially guilty; had she loved Andy more, had she comforted her when mother and father yelled at her, had she come to her defense when others spoke ill of her politics, she would not have left. There were so many things she _should_ have done, but did not, and now her poor sister was alone somewhere, out of reach from her family, and those she knew.

After class ended, the class began to pack away their things, and leave. She strayed behind her class as the rest hurried to the castle for lunch; everyone was tired, aching, hungry, and progressively growing wet from the rain. She thrust her books into her bag, shouldered it, and hurried along before another plant could cause her misfortune. She was soaked within moments, as a gust of wind poured over her. Narcissa ran to the castle, entering the entrance hall muddy and wet, dripping so much water from her robes, that she was sure Filch would snatch her up and give her detention.

With a sigh, she climbed the stairs so that she could go to the girl's lavatory and dry her robes and hair. She stepped through, nearly bumping into Peter Pettigrew, whose bag had split from the bottom, and his books had scattered all around the corridor floor. There were other girls that had the same idea she had; The two Ravenclaws from Herbology, and Lily Evans. Each girl had removed their robes and were steaming the water off with their wands. Narcissa turned to the mirror to fix her hair, when she heard a thud, then a bang, and a scream. Lily Evans wrenched her robes back on, and hurried to the door. The Ravenclaws followed, and Narcissa lazily decided to investigate also.

Lucius Malfoy was holding Peter Pettigrew by the front of his robes against the wall. Peter squealed, and sputtered, his legs dangling three feet from the ground.

"What are you doing in the girl's lavatory?" He asked, his voice sharp.

"D-d-d-dropped my pencil, Malfoy," He stuttered, "D-d-didn't, I-I-don't hurt me, please, d-don't hurt me."

"I see," Lucius said, his voice dropping dangerously, "And you just happened to drop your pencil in a girl's lavatory, where a group of girls had just entered?"

"L-L-Lily?" Peter asked tentatively, as he saw her behind Lucius.

"Let him go," She commanded, and she appeared positively terrifying.

Lucius responded by flicking his wand at her. She crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Peter gave a cry, wrenching and screaming desperately. Narcissa thought Peter might die. He was purple now, and coughing as Lucius's grasp around his throat strengthened. She was just about to intercept the confrontation, perhaps to try and calm Lucius, but she heard more noise behind her.

"Well, well, well," Sirius called, slowly sauntering up the purple corridor.

James Potter and Remus Lupin stood behind him, each boy looking furious. The Ravenclaw girls had fetched them, she supposed, as she remarked upon their absence.

"Two Slytherins," Potter said, glancing at Narcissa, "And four Gryffindors. What d'you reckon, Sirius?"

"I think, James," Sirius flashed a haughty smile, "That Malfoy is sorely outnumbered. Narcissa hardly counts as a witch, she might as well be a squib..."

Lucius let go of Peter and let him fall to the floor as Sirius stepped toward him. James followed, and both of them raised their wands when they heard a dark, haughty cackle from down the corridor.

Bellatrix was striding forward, wand at her side. Behind her flanked Rodolphus Lestrange, Walden Macnair, Abraham Nott, and strangely, Severus Snape. Narcissa supposed that the Ravenclaw girls' alert did not merely reach the Gryffindor table.

"This makes things a little more even, doesn't it, cousin?" Bellatrix asked, as she approached, her hair swinging. She stopped in front of Narcissa, blocking her from James Potter's wand.

In a blast of noise, spells, and smoke, she was left dazed. Someone shoved her into the lavatory, and then the door slammed upon her. She crawled forward, and made to open the door, but a misfired spell blasted a hole through the wood, nearly hitting her, and she peered from it in horror. Bellatrix stood in front of the door – it had been her that shoved her into the lavatory. She was crouched, and dodging and throwing spells viciously. Her laugh was louder and more shrill than ever. She was dueling Sirius, firing hexing at him until his back was against a window.

Narcissa had never seen someone so wicked...

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?" A professor roared.

Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief. It was Professor Slughorn that appeared, panting slightly, and holding several bottles of sherry.

They all began to explain at once, but Lucius's voice was the only one that became clear:

"The Gryffindors tried to intervene my prefect duties, sir," He said, "Several girls were inside the lavatory drying their robes, and Peter was trying to spy upon them. I caught him, and then some of the girls left to alert his friends. They arrived, and tried to hex me."

"And Macnair? Nott? Black, and Lestrange? And I think I see the youngest Black still in the lavatory, yes?" Professor Slughorn smiled at her from the large crater in the door.

"I was protecting my sister," Bellatrix replied smoothly.

Slughorn's eyes found Lily's, and his eyes flashed, "Detention, the _entire_ lot of you. Lupin, take Lily to the Hospital Wing at once. I want all of you downstairs to lunch, and no more dueling."

They waited until the Gryffindors left first, and then the large group of Slytherins followed behind them. Each of them were seething. Had Lily Evans not been unconscious, (she was Slughorn's favorite) they would not have been in trouble. None of them blamed Lucius; instead they blamed Lily, who should not have tried to boss anyone around in the first place. And it was determined that most of the damage had been done by Severus Snape, who had thrown more curses around than any of them knew.

Narcissa was left confused, surprised, and still completely soaked.


	6. Chapter 6

_You see we're tired, my heart and I.  
We dealt with books, we trusted men,  
And in our own blood drenched the pen,  
As if such colours could not fly.  
We walked too straight for fortune's end,  
We loved too true to keep a friend ;  
At last we're tired, my heart and I._

"My Heart And I" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The entire Slytherin house was seething, desperate to avenge the wrong-doing that had occurred on the second floor. In fact, the tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin had become so intense, that it was no longer safe to walk down the corridors alone. For the most part, each house remained in their common rooms after dinner, or traveled in packs to the library, awaiting a moment to attack one another. It seemed that only Regulus, Lucius, and Bellatrix were unafraid of walking the castle alone, and thus far no one had attempted to hex them.

Narcissa sat in one of the squashy chairs by the fire, reading through her essay for Transfiguration, when the common room door opened quietly. Lucius slinked in, though it was rather impossible for him to go unnoticed, and he found a seat at one of the desks in the corner. She had heard from Phoebe that he retreated to the Owlery for hours at a time to write letters back and forth to whoever his correspondence was. Phoebe was convinced it was his French belle, but Narcissa was less inclined to believe that Lucius had a secret lover, and thought it more appropriate that he was writing to his father, or making important business decisions.

From across the room, Mara gave a harsh, loud laugh. She was perched on Candra's lap, with her back against the armrest of a couch. She was engaging in an apparently exaggerated conversation with Pearl Parkinson and Abraham Nott. Bellatrix had abandoned her already, finding her incredibly irritating, and as a result, she and Rodolphus now sat across from Narcissa, deep in their studies.

"Lucius," Bellatrix called, her voice rising so that he could hear her over Mara, "What is _'Abyssinian shrivelfig'_ used for?"

"Shrinking solutions," He answered, without hesitation, "But only after it has been peeled."

She and Rodolphus began to scribble the information down quickly, their quills scratching in an odd synchronization.

"And what-" Bellatrix began to shout again.

"Why don't I just sit with you?" Lucius suggested, as he began gathering his things, and then he moved across the room. He sat in a chair next to Narcissa, and leaned forward to help Bella and Rodolphus. Narcissa found it hard to pay attention to what her sister was studying for, (apparently she was rubbish at Herbology, because most of the questions she had were from that subject) and instead spent a lot of her time staring into the fire, though she should have been reading over her essay. They studied well into the night with Lucius, and a little after midnight, the two began to pack away their things.

"Night," Bella yawned, and gestured with her hand to Lucius and Narcissa, as she made her way up the stairs to her dorm. Rodolphus followed her soon after, and Narcissa became nervous. She was alone with Lucius, and although she had been before, the common room made it seem different. As though they were alone, but everyone was around to speculate.

"Regulus should be coming in from his patrols soon," Lucius commented, as he opened one of his textbooks, and began to flip through the pages. "Will he tell you to leave?"

"It's likely that he will," Narcissa answered, with a shrug, "I shan't care."

"I see," He smiled, "Have you read my letter yet?"

Narcissa had forgotten about it, which took her by a great deal of surprise. The parchment was still in her bedside table drawer, locked, so that others wouldn't snoop (mainly Phoebe) through her things.

"I haven't," She admitted, "I'm saving it for a time when I need it, as I was instructed."

"Excellent, because it won't open otherwise," Lucius said.

"Might you tell me what I would need it for, Lucius?" She asked.

"Are you well enough to marry today?" He said, diverting the matter entirely.

Narcissa let out a low sigh, "No. I am too burdened to marry today."

"Burdened by what?"

"This horrible essay."

He extended his hand out to her, "May I?"

"You've helped my sister and her fiancé all evening," She protested. "I couldn't let you worry yourself with mine."

"It's nothing," Lucius commented. "I insist, Miss Black."

She conceded with reluctance because apart of her feared what would become of her if she didn't allow a man of his caliber to get what he wanted. Narcissa watched him study her essay intently, as if it were of great scholarly importance.

"Are you ready to marry today?" She asked, as it had occurred to her that she had not responded to their game.

"I'm afraid not," Lucius said, scratching out portions of her essay and correcting them. "My French belle has absconded with her French beau."

For a moment, she wondered if he were passively alluding to Bellatrix and her irreparable decision to marry so far below her. She had thought for some time that perhaps Lucius loved her, as she had watched him converse with her darling sister at breakfast. He had gazed upon her for long moments, unbeknownst to Bellatrix. They were such looks that even Rodolphus could not commit to make an action against Lucius.

"I see the rumors have befallen your ears," She said.

"Of course, I created them."

"Why ever would you do such a thing?" Narcissa questioned, surprised by this new information.

Lucius folded her parchment and handed it back to her. Their fingers brushed one another briefly as she attempted to retrieve her essay with as much grace as she could muster. The fire crackled before them, and it felt like a long moment before he let go of her parchment, and sank back into the squashy arm chair.

"I enjoy my moments alone, Miss Black, and when one focuses on the story more than the person," Lucius said. "Well…they tend to run rampant with fantasy and disregard reality."

But he was wrong. He was fantastical; they would never let him go. Everyone enjoyed a good rumor to be sure; the Slytherins enjoyed their gossip about him, and frankly, they did envelop themselves in the ongoing story, but they would never let him be. He was far too important to be forgotten by any of them ever. She wondered what she would do when he was gone again, but a mere figure in a ballroom that could walk near her and cause her to be frozen. She felt frozen now, entirely captivated by his presence and what the light that he brought into her life. It wouldn't be long until that was gone. It was nearing December. They would leave for Christmas. Everything afterward would slip into a transcendent of time, and before she knew it, it would be summer. And he would wed and be gone forever. The only thing left would be the legacy of him. And her memory would become a ghost.

She could still feel herself spinning in his arms last summer; her very first waltz. Something inside of her ached for him and another part knew she needed to say goodbye.

"Excuse me," Narcissa said suddenly.

She gathered her bag and parchment, and she ran up the stairs. She cared not that she wasn't lady-like or that others were watched her escapade. She opened the dormitory and slammed the door shut, her chest heaving.

She tore about the contents of her bedside dresser, searching for the letter which he claimed would open when she needed it. Well – she did, and she wanted this to be finality. A sever of the acquaintanceship that they never had formally engaged in the first place. This notion should have comforted her, she should have been able to say goodbye.

She ripped at the envelope. It was immaculately created magic. She set it on fire, watched it burn completely, and then flourish back into its original state.

Mara Parkinson opened the door. Narcissa knew she must have come for her, considering she did not belong there. She loathed to be caught off guard, particularly by someone that would definitely tell others about the scene she saw. Mara raised her eyebrows at the sight of Narcissa; teary-eyed and sniffling, her wand pointed at an innocent looking letter.

"You Black girls have all gone barking mad," Mara decided.

"I suppose so, yes," Narcissa responded, incapable of savagely retorting something.

"Malfoy sent me specifically to give you this," Mara said, holding out another envelope.

"Why?"

"It's an invitation to the summer ball next year. He gave one to everyone," She explained, her eyes glinting. "_Don't_ feel special, Black."

"I couldn't feel more worthy," Narcissa murmured, snatching it from her grasp.

"I'll leave you to your blubbering, then," Mara stated.

Just before she opened the door, a thought struck Narcissa suddenly.

"Why are you getting married, Mara?" She asked. "Especially to Candra Zabini. He's hardly worthy."

Mara turned, staring at her with a bizarre expression before smirking and guffawing.

"So I don't end up as pathetic as _you_, Narcissa Black. You know, I'm the youngest also."

For the first time, the insult wasn't crushing. Narcissa shunned the letter that refused her into her bedside drawer again, and she opened her invitation. But it wasn't an invitation to the Malfoy's summer ball. It was a wedding invitation. For Bellatrix and Lucius. It was the first draft of invitations that she had actually helped her mother configure. What rubbish was Mara giving her? She tossed it beneath her bed, prepared to deal with it at the end of the year only. She pulled the hangings around her bed, and willed herself to sleep, which wasn't that difficult for once.

She woke in the morning to excited cheers from the dormitory. It was the first Quidditch game of the season, and while Ravenclaw played Hufflepuff today, the Slytherins were excited. Narcissa sat in bed, her hair falling all about her shoulders, and listened to their excited gasps and whispers as they tugged their robes on and adorned necessary gloves and scarves, as the first winter frost come.

Narcissa waited until their sounds were gone, and then she dressed in her robes. She braided her hair and let it fall to one side of her shoulder. She looked in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen from her senseless tears the night before, but her eyes were unwaveringly blue. She tried to find the remarkable person that her father assured her she was, but she couldn't see anything. She was fifteen, but she felt much older. Her bones were heavier than they usually were.

She turned to the side of the mirror, noting her ill-formed figure. Most girls her age had already blossomed into full-formed hips and breasts, but she was straight-figured. Flat and thin, perhaps too tall. Bellatrix had matured by her fourth year. Narcissa sighed heavily, and removed herself from peering at her imperfections. One day she would be remarkable if she fought hard enough to be, but the fighting made her so very tired.

After she retrieved the galleons that her father had given her for her birthday, she made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Most of the students would be attending the Quidditch game, but she had never cared for the sport, and so she would sooner go to Hogsmeade, since it would be much more private.

The Great Hall was booming with chatter and happiness. The sky was pearly incandescent white, sporting great puffs of cold, frosty clouds that wrapped all across the sky. Wearily, Narcissa flopped onto one of the benches and began to methodically pour her tea. She took two cubes of sugar and so much cream that her tea became pale and milky.

"The youngest of the Blacks, best known for her severe pout and weary disposition," Candra Zabini called from the end of the table. An avid grin had spread across his face.

"Are you going to cry over your tea, Narcissa?" Mara mocked, thrusting her head back and reenacting a very dramatic version of Narcissa weeping.

She looked away from them quickly, and took a sip. She placed the saucer back onto its place and then reached for some of the platters with heaping servings. Narcissa selected only a few things, knowing she would want to have her fill of sweets, and it wouldn't do well to make herself sick.

The Quidditch game was starting, and she remained sitting, eating slowly, as the students and faculty filed out of the Hall and out to the Pitch. There were a few dozen other students straggling behind as well. When everything upon the table vanished, she rose from her place and left the room. Filch had what very few students were going to Hogsmeade in line, and she stepped behind them and waited for him to look over his list.

"Black," He scrutinized his list for a long moment. "Go on."

Narcissa pulled her gloves on and wrapped her scarf securely around her neck and face as she walked up the road. Light sleet fell from the sky and melted upon the ground. She shivered beneath her robes, wishing she had thought to adorn her winter robes instead. She came upon the picturesque village with tiny cottages and avid shoppers milling about.

For the most part, she wished to walk about, but it was just too chill for that, and so she entered _The Three Broomsticks_ to thaw for a while. She took a seat by herself at a booth, and settled to people watch for the moment. There were not many professors here; she was sure they wanted to watch the game. But she noted Severus Snape in a corner, avidly pouring over one book from a stack of four upon the table.

Abraxas Malfoy and Lucius were in the farthest corner of the room. They were leaned across the table to one another, deeply engaged in conversation. She wondered if perhaps they were arguing, though they seemed quite calm in front of one another. She studied their lips and tried to listen carefully over the raucous going on about them. The only thing she could make out was Lucius saying _time_, which did not seem significant.

She felt embarrassed to be so involved that she would go to extreme lengths to read his lips. Blushing hot, she turned her head away and decided then that it was time for her to leave. She gathered her scarf and gloves, and stumbled across the pub, dashing away from the groups of people making their way to empty tables in the back. She quickly looked around the village, and with a sigh, decided to make her way to _Madam Puddifoot's_.

It was a tea shop for lovers. She had been inside a few times, though by the end of her experience, she was usually left feeling miserable upon observation of the lovely couples squashed into various tables about the place. It was mostly empty today, only a few adults were seated, and there weren't any students. She selected a booth that appeared less ostentatiously romantic.

Narcissa was overwhelmed by her loneliness, though she mostly felt angered by her constant dismal attitude toward life. She wished to completely reinvent herself. Perhaps she should be more studious and become Head Girl during her seventh year. For what purpose though? To disregard her education and became a wife? Or worse, a spinster. The latter sent chills up her spine. Perhaps she had already doomed herself completely.

Perhaps she could become athletic. Andromeda had been on the Quidditch team, one might assume that it was hidden within her bloodline to become a Quidditch player also. Her mother would forbid it. She only allowed Andromeda because she had already been so far gone.

_Who am I?_ Narcissa thought, and for any Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw, that question would have time to develop. The commoners could learn their identities and carve what minimal existence that they could for themselves. But what did she have? A time clock telling her that her identity consisted of a bride or a failure and nothing less.

Curse Bellatrix. It would never cease to be her fault.

The door opened at the front of the room, breaking apart the earthy incents with the cold crisp wind. She chose to accept the tea that was offered her, and she began accumulating her regular ingredients for a proper cup. As she was adding mint leaves for a special taste, she was surprised that someone slid across from her.

"Look at what we have here," Candra Zabini drawled. "All alone, poor pathetic Cissy Black."

"You don't fancy Quidditch, Candra?" Narcissa asked him politely, as she stirred her tea.

"No," He said, grinning wickedly.

"I'm sorry it disappoints you."

"Why aren't you with _Lucius_, Narcissa Black?" He persisted. "Are you waiting for him? Has he stood you up on your first date?"

"We don't have that kind of relationship, Candra, and you know that."

She felt herself flush in anger. He was so infuriating and strange that she could barely stand to be around him. She wondered why he was here without Mara (though she doubted that this would be a place that Mara would even consider to frequent).

"Do I sense resentment?" He questioned. "Do you _love_ him, Narcissa? Are you longing for him?"

"Oh!" Narcissa exclaimed, flinching and jumping from the booth. Bellatrix would have dumped her hot tea on him. She couldn't bring herself to. "You are just _foul_, Candra Zabini."

She could will herself to force him to pay for her tea, however. She hurried out of the tea shop, his haughty words still resounding in her ears. He didn't play fair, that Candra Zabini. Not that any of them did – they were all brusque people; hardly civilized.

He destroyed what small happiness that she could gather from Hogsmeade, and so she hurried back to Hogwarts. Her fingers were numb and she felt tired now, and she welcomed the warmth of the fire from the common room. As she pulled open the great oak doors, the warmth that reached her melted the flecks of sleet that had begun to gather in her hair. She pulled her scarf away from her face and pulled her gloves from her hands. She journeyed down the dungeons, which became colder as she descended into the darkness.

Upon entrance to the common room, she discovered it was hardly filled. She imagined many were in the library studying or upstairs taking a nap after all of the excitement of the match. There wasn't a part of her that bothered which house had won.

She retrieved her books from upstairs and settled at a desk in the corner to study. She couldn't decide on how to invent herself. Becoming a genius seemed impractical and useless given her disposition in life, but it would perhaps distract her from reality. She needed that more than anything. It wasn't long into her studying that she began to stare off into space again. She watched two boys play chess with one another. When one lost, he threw the board across the room and stalked off angrily.

Narcissa sighed once she realized she hadn't been focusing, and so she busied herself again. She tried to immerse herself within the contents of Potions, but she found it dull. She had no desire to study when there wasn't a particular necessity to.

The common room door swung open, and Lucius entered. He was still wearing his gloves, and his hair was damp from the outside weather. Behind him entered Candra Zabini, who was flicking his eyes around excitedly. He settled upon Narcissa, and smirked. _Oh no._

Her heart began to pound and her hands trembled. What had he told Lucius? Had he actually said anything, or was he merely trying to get her roused up? She averted his gaze and glanced at Lucius instead, who sat on the couch in front of the fire. Candra Zabini sat in a chair facing Narcissa, and he folded his hands upon his chest gleefully.

"Say, _Narcissa_ how was your date at _Madam Puddifoot's_?" He called.

"What is your preoccupation with me, Candra?" Narcissa questioned.

"Really, Candra," Lucius cut in. "Your behavior really _is_ quite irksome."

"My apologies, Lucius," Candra immediately sobered for a few moments, but his smile returned shortly after. "I was just telling Lucius about the dashing lad you were sitting with."

"Please don't tell me you actually expect us to believe that my dearest sister went on a date?" Bellatrix asked. She sidled from the back of the common room to the fireplace, and leaned over on the back of the couch next to Lucius.

"I saw it with my own eyes," He said. "Of course, I was the dashing lad. I took pity upon her and decided to sit with her."

Bellatrix chortled, and now disinterested, rose from her stance and sauntered back to one of the desks that she was sharing with her fiancé and Abraham Nott.

"Why don't you come sit with us, Narcissa?" Candra called.

"I am trying to _study_."

"For what?"

"She has OWLs, this year, Zabini," Lucius answered. "I'm quite sure she's just doing early preparations."

"Narcissa?" He guffawed.

She shot him a glare, though she was quite sure it wouldn't frighten him. She hadn't any power; worse, she was practically born for ridicule.

"You're a pretty girl, Narcissa. Marry me."

"No!" Narcissa exclaimed sharply, her voice carrying loudly enough that the common room became quite hushed.

Candra let out a long mocking laugh. "You can't say no, remember, Cissy?"

"You and Mara and engaged."

"Not officially."

"So?"

"So you can't say no to me," Candra said. "You _have_ to marry the first man that asks you. You're the third daughter."

Narcissa closed her book, and began to gather her things. Tears were forming in her eyes. She tried to recall what her father had said, that women could be remarkable even if they did say no. They _could_ be. He wouldn't have told her that and it not be true. It _was_ true, was it not?

"Where are you going, Narcissa?" Candra asked. "I do hope you're going upstairs to plan for our wedding."

"_No_."

"You don't get a choice, poor Narcissa! Poor pathetic little—"

"I said _no_!" She repeated, as she pulled her bag over her shoulders. Her voice was shaking. "You cannot _force_ me to just because you decided to make a stupid joke."

"Shall I owl to your father?"

"My father would _never_ consent to such an arrangement," Narcissa said.

"Are you sure that you should put that much faith in your father, Cissy?"

"Yes." Her answer was firm, her gaze unwavering.

She moved her gaze from his to the stairs, where Mara was standing, as if she had stumbled upon the conversation and she couldn't move. Narcissa let out an audible gasp, which caused Candra to follow her eyes, and he suddenly seemed frightened himself.

"Have we established an adequate sense of drama _now_?" Lucius questioned, sounding irritated.

He collected his belongings, and he walked out of the common room, though he did so lazily, as though nothing was wrong now. In an emotionally charged and swift moment, she gave Candra one last glare, and followed him out of the room. She wasn't sure why she needed to follow him, but she did. She needed to speak with him again.

"Lucius!" She called, running down the corridor in an attempt to catch up with him.

She caught up to him midway down the corridor, for he had stopped and waited for her. She stopped short of him, slightly out of breath, but immediately she felt calmer.

"Yes?" He asked her.

"Where are you going?" She demanded.

"I—well…" He seemed unwilling to tell her. "The greenhouses."

"Can I go?" She asked him.

"I would be more than willing to escort you," He responded politely.

She nodded and tried to smile. Part of her wished that he wasn't so dreadfully formal, and the other part was thankful for the familiarity he brought forth. She followed him up the steps to the entrance hall, and then he opened one of the oak doors for her. She shivered at the burst of cold wind. They were silent the entire way to the greenhouses, as it was much too cold for conversation, and she supposed that any words would be carried off with the wind.

The greenhouse was humid and sticky. She breathed in the air heavily, feeling it weigh upon her. It must have been the greenhouse for seventh years, as she had never been inside of it before. She sat upon a stool, and unpacked her bag of books. Lucius collected sat across from her on the wooden table.

"After the fiasco with Candra, are you prepared to marry today?" He asked her conversationally.

"I shan't _ever_ be married the way things are going," Narcissa said exasperatedly.

"Why not?" He asked, as he opened one of his books, and he flourished and essay that he was working on.

"Who would marry me after that incident?" She questioned. "I'm a fool. He's right, though. To deny one is to deny them all if you're the third daughter."

"Technically, are you even the third daughter?" He asked, glancing up at her.

Part of his hair was escaping from his band.

"Are _you_ prepared to marry today?" She asked him instead.

"No," He answered, breaking into an easy smile. "I'm afraid I'm preoccupied with my studies."

"That's a good reason for not marrying."

"I wish it were."

They read in silence. She could focus for once, perhaps because it was quiet unlike the common room or the dormitories. Even the library felt electric with social constructs. The greenhouse felt like an entirely different world. Perhaps this was where Lucius hid himself. She realized suddenly that he was hardly around the other Slytherins without purpose.

"Are Malfoy's allowed to love?" She asked him.

"Love?" Lucius asked, looking up from his essay. "I suppose so. My parents seem to be in love, and they seem to care for me."

"Were they arranged?" She asked.

"Yes," He said. "My mother said it took a long time for her to love my father, but after years of marriage, affection eventually becomes mutual."

"But fall in love," Narcissa said. "Are you given the time to? To marry someone because you love them, not because you have to?"

"No, Miss Black," Lucius said. "I shouldn't think there is time. Being a Malfoy doesn't permit us to break the rules."

"Then how are you managing it?" She questioned.

"I'm not breaking any rules."

"Bellatrix told me that the Halloween Masque was supposed to be where you met a fiancé," Narcissa said. "And I saw you today, in Hogsmeade with your father—"

"I have until the summer," Lucius said. "That's the most extension that is socially acceptable."

"Why are you waiting?" Narcissa asked. "You could have anyone at any time. All you would have to do is pick one, anyone would wed you."

Lucius smiled at her, "Because I'm too distracted by my studies, or I don't have the energy, or I have _too_ much energy to marry anyone."

"Are you sure you have time?" She asked. "Your inheritance and all."

"Those are mere warnings, Miss Black," Lucius replied. "My parents have much more to concern themselves with if I don't wed than if I do of my own accord."

"I wish I had your power," She admitted. "I wish I had a choice."

"What is it that you need, Miss Black?" Lucius asked her.

"To be in my sister's place, I suppose."

He mulled her words carefully. She felt bare, exposing such truths to him. He hardly seemed the person to do so, but then again, he was the only one appropriate for her to say such things to.

"It's hopeless, Lucius. My predicament is quite final."

"I wonder…" He pushed his essay aside, which nearly caused her ink to spill across all of her books, but she caught it in time. "How might I use my power to liberate you from your situation?"

It was clear he knew the answer already, but he wanted her to suggest it first. Narcissa shrugged noncommittally. He was watching her so intently, his gaze passionately steady upon her, that she felt embarrassed.

"If you're considering marrying me for both of our benefits, I refuse," Narcissa said without thinking, and she was surprised by her own horrible words.

"Well, no," Lucius said quickly. "I hadn't thought of it in quite that way, _however_, a formal alliance would have nearly the same effect, would it not?"

"Perhaps," She said, furrowing her brow. She wasn't certain that it could actually help anything.

"Consider it done," Lucius said. He stowed his books in his bag, and swung the strap across his shoulder. "I suppose I have a letter to write, then."

He left her there. She felt embarrassed that she had suggested he be plotting a marriage between them. Of course he wasn't. Who would marry her? She wasn't even sure a formal alliance between them could fix anything. She was tired of mulling over her predicaments, her many failures and unfortunate experiences in life. She had no definition of happiness. There was no hope for Narcissa Black.


	7. Chapter 7

"_There is a globe welling up inside of me.  
Mountain ranges ridging my skin,  
oceans filling my mouth. If I stay still  
long enough, I could become my own world."_

_- _"Because I'll Never Swim in Every Ocean" by Anna Journey

Christmas at the Black manor arrived in a dismal stupor. Narcissa could scarcely pull herself from the sinking sadness that crept upon her. She watched the snow collect on the yard from her window. She was vacant inside. She cared not for the Christmas festivities nor did she relish Bellatrix's promise to never attend another holiday as an unmarried woman. Narcissa would perhaps feel more inclined to happiness if Bellatrix had promised to leave entirely.

She sat in her father's customary chair at the end of the table in the dining hall while house elves busily decorated. She was slouched, mulling over her miseries with a small goblet filled with pumpkin juice.

"Oh, cheer _up, _Cissy," Her mother chastised.

"She's worried that Lucius will announce a possible engagement," Bellatrix said. She was sitting across the table, watching Narcissa coyly. "And all of her dreams will be crushed."

Bellatrix tilted her chair on its back legs to encompass the girth of the barking laugh that escaped her.

"What dreams?" Lady Black questioned. She was creating a centerpiece for the table.

Red ribbons shot out of the end of her wand and wove around a wreath. Small golden bells came next.

"She thinks if she spends enough time with Lucius, he'll choose her for a bride."

Her mother paused for a long moment, and then looked over at Narcissa, who met her gaze half-heartedly. Her hands were clenched, possibly imagining them around Bellatrix's throat.

"You can't really think that, Narcissa. Do you want to marry Lucius? Do you?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes and pushed the chair back. She stood up and scoffed over at Bellatrix, who seemed quite pleased with herself and the trouble she had managed to create. She was about to reply when her father interrupted them. He was levitating a Christmas tree into the room.

"Lucius isn't good enough for Cissy," He announced with a smile.

He stopped to survey his placement of the tree, and then flicked his wand and decorations sprang all across it. Pleased with himself, he left the room to carry on with other tree placements. Narcissa sat back down, having calmed herself slightly.

"Well, it seems a bit of ridiculous to me," Her mother said. "_Just _because he asked for a formal alliance with you, Narcissa, doesn't mean you should expect marriage."

"I'm not _expecting_ anything, Mum!" She exclaimed. "Leave it alone. Just leave it _alone_."

Her mother let out a dramatic, audible sigh directed toward her, but she said nothing. Narcissa stood up hotly and stomped from the room. Stupid Bellatrix.

She climbed the stairs, ignoring the protests from the portraits about her appearance. They squabbled with one another over whether or not they preferred her in blue or green, perhaps even red if she was daring enough. One concluded that she did not simply have the personality or presence to wear either, and she should consent to a bleak gray to accent her equally transparent attitude.

Poppy was tearing apart the sheen canopy around her bed. He had shredded the left half completely off of the frame, and it was lying wilted on the floor.

"_Bad_ cat!" Narcissa cried, swatting at him.

He scurried beneath the bed, peering at her with bright oval eyes. She sighed heavily. Even animals loathed being in her presence, and thus destroyed her things in revenge. Narcissa sank across her bed resolutely. Poppy hissed from underneath.

She wondered if she should rearrange her room, perhaps introduce a new color. It had been blue her entire life, never redecorated. Narcissa couldn't even say it was her favorite color. Rather, it was an appropriate color, not a chosen one. Her room was sparsely decorated and plain. An oak wardrobe closet was near the door, accompanied by another dresser piece for other items of clothing. She had a vanity table and her bed. Her room was empty too, so unlike Lucius's room filled with books and plants, recorded parts of himself that others could easily see. She was hardly recognizable.

A loud rapping woke her. She jolted up from her bed. The sun was beginning to recede along the horizon. Narcissa gasped, horrified. She was missing the Christmas ball. A laugh directed her attention to the door.

Lucius was leaning against the door frame, his hand poised in front of the door to knock again. He was wearing thick winter robes. She briefly wondered if it was already snowing in the country. She felt humiliated in entirely every way, worse than she had when he had caught her by the fountain with her backside wet.

"I thought I would return the gesture," He explained. "Since you found me and rescued me from disinheritance."

Narcissa smoothed her hair back from her forehead and said, "I wouldn't think anyone would even notice."

"I did," He said. "That's someone, isn't it?"

She gave him a meek smile.

His gaze fell upon her canopy.

"Forgive my imprudence, but out of curiosity…what happened?"

"_Oh_, dear. Poppy. He is a bit of a rascal."

Narcissa wondered if this was proper. He didn't seem to mind, which took her off guard. Lucius abided by all of the rules, or so she thought.

"Won't they miss you?" She questioned.

"I have a reputation for this kind of thing now," Lucius explained. "It's best to keep the masses invested in my mystique."

"So that they will leave you alone?" She asked.

He nodded.

"Will you do me the favor of a tour, Miss Black?" Lucius asked her. "I should like to have a more thorough outline of the Black Manor. More than most guests."

Narcissa smiled, swiftly meeting him at the door. He didn't offer his arm to escort her. Strange. She wondered if he no longer cared. They walked in silence, a comfortable distance between them. Narcissa showed him the modest third floor that they were on. Her mother and father's chamber, the room that had once belonged to Andromeda. Her heart positively ached when she thought of her. It had come to her realization that perhaps part of her had just died when she left. She introduced the room as her sister's, refusing to forgo her existence. She was there. She meant something, even if Narcissa had taken that for granted. It was too late for that.

"Our manor is modest by comparison to my aunt's," Narcissa explained. "And of course, by yours."

"I find it charming," Lucius responded. "You have all the luxuries of my home without the daunting work of stairs."

Narcissa clasped her hands together, unsure of what to say. Lucius asked her about the essay he had helped her work on. She asked him if he had knowledge of Mara and Candra's engagement, which she learned was formally announced during dinner that evening.

"Do you have an attic?" He asked her suddenly, as they were about to go downstairs to the entrance hall.

"Oh, well, yes," Narcissa said.

"May I see it?" Lucius asked. "My home does not have one. It has a basement, but not an attic."

"It's much the same, I should think," She said, though she had never been in a basement before.

However, she consented and took him to the third floor again. She pulled open the shanty staircase that went up to the attic. Narcissa wasn't sure what interested him. The portraits around her were snoozing, but the stairs alerted some of them. They didn't seem to care at the moment, but she felt that they were going to tell on her later. Sometimes she thought it might be easier to tear them all off the walls and chuck them in the bin.

Lucius transfigured golden globes to float around the room, which lit up the attic. It was dingy, with crowded cobwebs nestled in corners and creaking floorboards. There were a few boxes around. He flourished two chairs and a table between them.

"Would it be rude of me to assume that you haven't eaten?" He asked her.

She shook her head.

"Excellent," He said, pleased by her reaction.

Another wave of his wand produced some of the servings from down stairs, plates and utensils, and goblets of pumpkin juice. He took a seat, and hesitantly she sat opposite of him. What was the point in this? It would be of no effort for her to slip into the dining room and find whatever was remaining. She couldn't engage in the dances anyway, no one would ask for her hand.

"Did you enjoy _Madam Puddifoot's_?" Lucius questioned suddenly.

Narcissa took a drink from her goblet, and replaced it upon the table before answering.

"No. I should say that I did not enjoy it a bit."

"Why was that?" He asked.

Narcissa studied him for a moment. He appeared to be mostly neutral, though not unhappy. She decided that was so by the polite smile upon his face and his easy nature.

"Well," She said, uneasily. "My experience of it was perhaps darkened by a certain Zabini, who seems to have taken it upon himself to ridicule me at any moment he can spare."

"What about _The Three Broomsticks_?"

"Acceptable, I suppose," She replied. "A little overcrowded."

"Overcrowded, but not overheard," Lucius amended.

She was curious as to why he was questioning her preferences of shops. The conversation was light, perhaps more so than any of their others had been. Narcissa wondered if he was making an example of this conversation, a way of telling her that he no longer desired anything aside from politeness. Perhaps he _was_ making the subtle suggestion, but he did so while sharing a meal with her alone in an attic.

He asked her about her favorite meals and whether or not she preferred winter or summer. Silly bits of information about her that she was fairly certain he could guess or already know from previous encounters with her.

After they finished their meal, she stood and her chair vanished. Clever magic. His vanished too when he rose, and the table dispersed. They crept back down the stairs. She could hear music reverberating from the floor, lightly shaking the candle holders in the corridor. Lucius closed the stairs back. He turned to her, looking quite distracted. His eyes followed the end of the corridor, and then glanced back at her.

"Lucius," Narcissa began, but he interrupted her.

"You look quite lovely, Miss Black," He said in a rush.

"T-thank you," She replied. "Um….you look quite handsome as well, Lucius."

Lucius looked to the floor. He was quiet for a long moment. Narcissa tilted her head, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She wondered if he was sick. Or perhaps he was desperate to flee from her presence. Maybe he had called her lovely in hopes that she would become so for him, as if the magic of his words would distinguish her in a way that was a part of his palette.

"Forgive me, Miss Black," He said at once. "But may I burden you with my company for a while longer?"

"Yes," Narcissa consented. "Yes, of course. Are you feeling well?"

"Perfect," He said, smiling.

They walked slowly down the third corridor. He did not seem to have a preference for their destination, and so she took the stairs to the second floor. She wondered if he was troubled, or perhaps something from the ball had upset him. It couldn't possibly be Bellatrix. She was already betrothed, though he might have felt that there was finality in this evening. They were marrying in June; it would not be long now. Narcissa wondered if it was too personal to ask whether or not he was in love with her sister.

There was an exhausting part of her that knew, but could not commit, to her thoughts or affections for him. To do so would be a punishment. The answer she would receive would be a resounding disappointment to be sure. She couldn't allow herself even the words. Love was fleeting, fragile, and rare. She had determined that whatever feelings she held for Lucius were in vain.

"Forgive me, Lucius, but you seem to be bothered by something," Narcissa questioned, ceasing the silence that had passed between them.

"Ah, yes, well. Perhaps 'bothered' is not the correct term to describe my current state," Lucius said. "Frustrated is more appropriate, I should think."

"What frustrates you?" She asked.

"Nothing serious," Lucius replied quickly.

"My woes are nothing serious either, yet you always listen to me," Narcissa reminded him. "Confide in me, if you feel me trustworthy. I wish to return the favor."

"If you insist, Miss Black."

"I insist."

They were walking down the last staircase into the main foyer. He turned to her as she was on the third or fourth step from the bottom, and he on the floor. She was nearly as tall as him here, which she deemed quite an interesting perspective. She was gazing at him, when he took her hand in his. His action took her by such surprise that she let out a lightly audible gasp.

"If you must know—"

The doors from the ballroom burst open, and Lucius let go of her hand swiftly. He casually leaned against the curved end of the staircase railing.

"Lucius!" Abraxas Malfoy called with a wide smile upon his face. "Where have you been? The waltz is about to start."

"Sorry, father," He answered. "Miss Black was obliging my request of a tour through her enchanting home."

"You do have a beautiful home, Miss Black," Abraxas said, bowing politely to her.

"Thank you, Master Malfoy," Narcissa said, sweeping into a slight curtsey. It was shallow and wobbly, but she hoped he would excuse her inabilities for being on a staircase.

"Come, both of you," He said. "I remember you dancing last summer; I would like nothing more from the both of you than to dance again."

Her mother would be terribly angry with her again for disobeying her rules about the waltz not once but twice in front of her, but she decided that it was a small price to pay to be able to participate in the dance itself. How angry would Bellatrix be!

Lucius escorted her by the arm into the ballroom. Abraxas turned back into the door. She could see him among the others. Lady Malfoy was well enough to attend and even dance, and they took their places to the left of her mother and father. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were on their right, and Mara and Candra were after them on the same side. Lucius guided her to the place next to his parents and directly in front of Bellatrix.

She was brave enough to glance over at her mother, who looked positively venomous. Her stare was so brazen that Narcissa was frightened she might strike her if she had the opportunity.

"I hope you don't mind Narcissa dancing, Druella," Abraxas intervened, possibly even anticipating that kind of reaction. "I loved how they danced last summer together, really, I insisted."

"I see," She growled, and when the music started she pursed her lips.

She danced the most complex pattern she could muster. They spun and waltzed in a series of infinity loops. Couples that had joined after the first route began to drop out of the dance, for much of the guests had taken to drinking and couldn't bear the rampant spinning. Narcissa could hardly see anything until they slowed to follow, but the spinning left everything a blur. Her arm, which was clasped tightly to Lucius's, began to ache. Her other, which was poised on his shoulder, shot electric pains down to her elbow.

Relief came when they turned to the side and crossed feet over feet, carrying lithely across the dance floor. She turned Lucius, and he returned to her, arms in formation, and spun her rapidly back around. The dance ended smoothly and they were back in their original places.

Her face was flushed and she was slightly out of breath, but she curtseyed to Lucius. He bowed to her.

"Thank you," Narcissa said.

"You are a splendid dancer, Miss Black," He said.

"Not really, no, I think perhaps it was just you."

His mother and father approached them, both smiling.

"Wonderful!" Abraxas announced. "You two are a beautiful dancing couple! You have your mother's grace, Narcissa, to be sure."

Narcissa blushed, but she accepted the compliment and expressed her gratitude.

"You must dance another with us," He demanded.

Narcissa shook her head vehemently, "Oh, no, I don't think my mother would want me to."

"She will understand, I'm sure," He said. "Come along. You will have a great deal of fun."

Narcissa reluctantly consented. She glanced up at Lucius, who smiled back at her, and then she looked over to the other couples. Lady Malfoy declined the next dance, and Narcissa's father escorted her off the dance floor. Abraxas quickly went to her mother. He was charming her into a position she couldn't refuse just the way he had her, Narcissa realized. How unfortunate.

"Have you danced any of the others?" Lucius asked her.

"No," Narcissa said, taking her eyes away from her mother to look at him. "But I've seen them all my life, I should know them enough."

"Excellent."

They danced most of the night for Abraxas, as each time she made an attempt to recede back into the crowd; he interrupted her and demanded she dance again. By the end of the evening, it was as if everyone had forgotten her absence and even Lucius's, and she spent hours dancing with him without interruptions. She was sure others wished to dance with him too, but Abraxas was an unstoppable force. He refused the others for his son. Not that any were brave enough to approach and ask to intervene.

At the end of the evening, she stood at the door with her parents to say goodbye to the guests that were departing. Many of them were nearly too drunk to stand. Some were even unconscious, levitated out by other members who may or may not have been almost as intoxicated too.

"Your family always throws a wonderful Christmas party, Cygnus," Abraxas told her father.

He shook his hand warmly. Perhaps he was rather drunk as well, as he was much more exuberant than usual. Lucius bowed to her. He seemed disgruntled; something was slightly disrupted in his facial features as he bade her goodnight and a happy Christmas. He was brisk and professional; unlike he had been while dancing.

After they had left, she retired to her room to sleep. The house elves had cleaned the house in the time that it had taken the guests to leave. Upon entering her room, she found that they had even taken the liberty of exchanging her sheen canopy with a cloth one decorated with elaborate flowers in a shade of dark blue.

She dressed in her nightwear, and brushed out her hair at her vanity table. She waited for her mother to enter the room and lecture her, possibly punish her for her actions, but she never did. Finally, Narcissa felt secure enough to tuck in to bed. She pulled the hangings around her the frame. Poppy was sprawled across the pillow next to hers, and she pet him until she fell into a lulled slumber.

"WAKE UP, CISSY! IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

Bellatrix ripped her hangings apart one by one from each end. Light flooded across her bed, and she groaned. Her sister was radiating happiness. She was even wearing a Christmas hat with bells that jingled with each step that she took. It was clear that she had woken up and gone to immediately rouse her. Without consideration, Bellatrix grasped Narcissa's wrist and pulled her out of her bed. She fell onto the floor, and ambled to her feet. Her sister was not stunted by her ill-reactions to the holiday, and she dragged her down the hall.

A large cluster of perfectly wrapped presents were underneath the tree in the parlor. Bellatrix was terribly excited, thrilled beyond measure. Narcissa took a seat on the divan next to her father, who was wearily sipping tea and watching his eldest daughter apprehensively.

Her mother came in last, because she had dressed appropriately. Her hair was down in waves, reaching her back. They passed around presents. Narcissa received much of her presents from her parents. Her mother bought her a lovely ruby-colored bottle of perfume that smelled of cinnamon and flowers. She received mostly dress robes, and Bellatrix had given her a set of hair combs since she had thrown her old set in the fire in a fight that they had a few years ago.

The family was readying themselves for the journey to Aunt Walburga's house, when there was a knock upon the door. Narcissa stood from her vanity table, where she was attempting to place her hair combs equally on both sides of her head. She looked out her window, but did not see a carriage or lingering bodies off of the door stoop that would give her an indication of the caller. She slipped the combs in, deciding to disregard the need for perfection, and carried her shoes into the hall. She put them on her feet as she walked briskly. Bellatrix exited her room in curiosity too.

When she arrived in the foyer, she saw that no one had answered the door yet. Her father, though he was sitting in the parlor reading the _Daily Prophet_, seemed to not notice that there was someone at the door. Narcissa, with Bellatrix peering excitedly from the end of the staircase, opened the door.

Lucius stood, bundled up to keep from being cold, on the doorstep.

"Oh!" Narcissa gasped. "Hello, Lucius."

She glanced over at Bellatrix, perhaps to give him a hint that she was hiding there, and she opened the door wider.

"Come in, come in."

He stepped in, shivering slightly. There was sleet falling swiftly down onto the ground.

"Happy Christmas," She told him.

"Happy Christmas," Lucius said, and then he nodded at her sister. "Happy Christmas, Bellatrix."

Her mother and father joined them, seemingly surprised.

"Lucius, hello. What a pleasure it is that you have dropped by," Her mother said, curtseying to him. "I hope you are having an excellent holiday."

"Oh, yes, indeed I am. I was hoping to catch you before you left to visit the rest of your family," Lucius said quickly. "My father sent me in person because he thought an owl might not make it due to the weather. He asked if your family would oblige ours for tea later this afternoon, if you can. If not, he would ask that you come for dinner."

"What an invitation," Druella Black said, looking to her husband. "Do we have the time, dear?"

"It would mean a lot to him, sir," Lucius said graciously. "We've not extended family; it is warming to spend Christmas with more than ourselves."

"Dinner should do well, I think," Her father accepted. "I believe my sister anticipates we stay for tea there, but the evening should be appropriate."

He bowed again, and stepped back toward the door.

"Thank you, sir," He said. "Happy Christmas."

Bellatrix closed the door behind him. Her eyes snapped to Narcissa curiously.

"Have you bewitched him?" She asked.

"_No_," Narcissa snapped.

She lost interest once she evaluated that she was telling the truth. Her mother and father seemed less suspicious and more pleased about the invitation. They left for Aunt Walburga's directly, rather than using a carriage because the roads were quickly becoming slick. Her father put his hand on her shoulder, and they Apparated to the door step.

Her Aunt and her now deceased Uncle Orion were an interesting group. They had retreated from society almost entirely, disallowing others to locate their home and refusing most invitations that were not from them or a Malfoy. Even now, as they knocked, it took a long line of questioning before Regulus opened the door to them. The long hallway was nearly black, but there were conversational portraits that were hidden behind drapes.

"Hello, family," Regulus greeted. "We're sitting down for lunch first, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, dear," Druella said, and they followed him into the kitchen.

Her aunt had refused to seat herself in the dining hall anymore, and thus they operated in the kitchen. The table was already prepared. Sirius sat at one end of the table, chair kicked back.

"Hello, cousins," He greeted with a sneer.

"I'll hex you through that window, there, cousin," Bellatrix threatened. "Mark it, one more word and I'll put an end to you."

He didn't say anything more, though he laughed at her. Regulus sat next to Narcissa on one side, on the other Bellatrix sat. She was surreptitiously watching Sirius from her peripheral vision, as if expecting him to strike out and hex her.

"So, how was the Christmas ball?" Her aunt asked, as she took a seat. She began to stab at the food she had placed. "I sent Regulus, but he didn't have much to say on the matter."

"It was quite successful, perhaps one of the more vibrant parties we've hosted," Druella told her.

She grunted, as if she disagreed that parties could be vibrant at all, but she did not state this out loud.

"Narcissa waltzed with Lucius Malfoy," Bellatrix announced.

"Your first waltz?" Aunt Walburga questioned, though it sounded threatening.

"Yes," Narcissa said quickly, wondering if her family would question her lies.

"The waltz always made me sick," She said, letting out a breath of air that sounded like _humph_.

Narcissa glanced over at Sirius, who was aiming a rather large serving of potatoes with his spoon toward Bellatrix. He caught her eye, and held his finger up to his lips. She didn't have time to alert her sister either way, for he fired at her in the next second. They lodged in her hair. She immediately wrenched herself up from the table, screaming, and dived across it for his throat.

He leaped up from the table, howling. He picked up his plate and goblet, and dashed from the room. Bellatrix ran after him. The kitchen door slammed, and she heard loud bangs and shrieks of terror. Her aunt continued eating as if nothing had occurred, and after a few moments of Bellatrix screaming hexes at Sirius, Regulus stood up and went to defend either his brother or his cousin, whoever it seemed was losing.

"Well," Her aunt said, after it had quieted. "Shall we go to the sitting room for presents?"

They remained there most of the afternoon. Sirius and Bellatrix had done significant damage that Regulus repaired, though the portraits were noisily arguing with one another. Sirius had escaped into his room, while Bellatrix tried to blow the door off of its hinges. The result had been dreadful. The door finally did come off, but in the opposite way she meant, and it knocked her off the side of the rail onto the floor below. She nursed the aches already appearing while she ate the sweets that their aunt had given them both as gifts.

After gifts and tea, they departed rather quickly. Her aunt was becoming irritated with the burden of hostess. She bid them goodbye, but ushered them quickly from the house. Narcissa watched number 12 Grimmauld Place disappear between the two Muggle homes, and then her father touched her shoulder.

"That woman," Bellatrix complained, as they Apparated at the edge of the lawn, and began the walk to the door.

"Enough, Bellatrix," Her father reprimanded.

Narcissa carried her gifts to her room. She changed into the blue dress robes that she had worn to the summer ball at the Malfoy Manor. With difficulty, she French braided her hair. Her hair was so long that she had to pull the braid across her shoulder to fasten it with a ribbon. She wore the perfume her mother had bought her, perhaps as a sign of direct appreciation for the gift. Her mother hadn't been speaking to her, suggesting what Narcissa had assumed: she was displeased with her.

She surveyed her parents as she walked down the stairs. Her mother's hands were clasped together, her lips set in a firm line. She was slightly pale. Her father looked indignant. They must have been arguing while she dressed. Bellatrix flounced past her, rearranging her hair as she went.

The Malfoy Manor was glowing. Snow was falling solidly, covering the ground and the home. They Apparated to the gate, which opened for them, and they walked up the curved walkway. It had been cleared of snow, apparently by magic, as the snow was not landing on its surface. In fact, the walkway was even pleasantly warm.

Her father knocked on the door. Her mother was solemn, but her back was straight and the color had returned to her face. She wondered what the argument had been over, and whether or not it had something to do with her and the waltz. If it was, it appeared her mother had lost whatever battle she had tried to commit.

"Happy Christmas, friends," Abraxas greeted, as he opened the door.

The entrance hall was brightly lit, and she realized that she had never actually seen the décor of the room. There were portraits placed all the way up to the ceiling; practically every wall was covered in them. The floor was made of marble. A mosaic of tile pieces led to the wide marble staircase in one large sweep to the left, but it also directed to the ballroom and to the right where there were spare rooms, parlors, she had discovered.

"Odelia has requested we dine in the smaller dining room, if that is acceptable," Abraxas said, leading them into the ballroom.

It was serenely empty, but it too was brightly lit. The small dining room was tucked away to the far left of the room. It was an inconspicuous door, one she had never seen before. She realized it was so because they usually hung tapestries across it. The dining room they entered was entirely white except for the Christmas tree in the corner. The table, which could seat twelve, was covered with silk. Bursting poinsettias were placed in the center. They were the only source of color in the room.

They were seated. Odelia Malfoy entered through another door, one on the opposite side from the one that they entered. Narcissa glanced around. There appeared to be three doors. Two that entered from different parts of the house, and one that led to the garden. She felt nervous, and she wondered if her parents were too. Instances like these made it painfully aware of their manufactured friendships. She felt like a stranger.

Abraxas sat at the head of the table, his wife on the right, and Cygnus Black on the left. Her mother sat next to Odelia, since it wasn't proper for husband and wife to sit with one another, and then she and Bellatrix were arranged by birth on the left.

"My son appears to be late," He announced, frowning slightly. "Forgive him."

"He's going through a phase," Odelia mentioned lightly.

"We have no objections to his late arrival," Druella remarked.

"Your patience is appreciated," Abraxas responded.

Bellatrix turned to Narcissa and rolled her eyes. She stifled a smile the best she could. For once, their thoughts had been nearly the same. The awkwardness of the situation was nearly comical. How different it was from larger arrangements; they felt like old friends.

Lucius entered from the same door that they had come from. He seemed slightly peeved upon entrance, but his face relaxed and he apologized for being late. He swept his father a disgruntled look as he pulled out his chair, and sat next to Druella.

"Wonderful," Abraxas announced, outstretching his fingertips in points against his chin.

His words produced food upon the table. They ate mostly in silence for the first few moments. Narcissa tried to eat quietly, and most importantly, not spill anything on the white table cloth or the white carpet. It seemed like a disastrous color placement given the function of the room, but she didn't want to criticize it vocally. Her parents made small talk, mostly ignoring them, but Abraxas addressed them over dessert.

"Your wedding is going according to plan, I presume, Bellatrix?" Abraxas questioned.

Bellatrix looked up from her dish, surprised that things had taken a turn in her direction.

"I suppose so, yes," She said, glancing at Lucius, whose eyes were diverted to the table.

"When will you be married?" He persisted.

Narcissa wondered if he was being spiteful. Perhaps his anger toward Lucius had been more severe than she had previously thought. She was suspicious of him, at least, and his affections for her sister. She had begun to assume that her ideas were right, as he seemed quite undone the closer the wedding date came.

"June," She stated.

"That is a lovely time for a wedding," He complimented. "We were married in June, you know. It was a beautiful occasion. We wed in the garden, just outside where the fountain now is. Interestingly enough, the fountain was a wedding present from your grandfather."

Bellatrix was completely disinterested, and Narcissa was quite certain that she had stopped listening entirely, for she only nodded her approval, and then went back to eating. Narcissa was invested in Abraxas's story. She wondered if Odelia had been frail or sickly even then. Perhaps not. He might not have consented to the marriage otherwise.

She felt a bump against her shin, but she shifted and ignored it. It occurred again. Once, twice. At the third tap, she finally glanced across the table, expecting her mother to be the one kicking her, but it was Lucius. He met her gaze steadily, and then he tilted his head to the right. She narrowed her eyes, staring at him incredulously. He watched her for a few moments, and then turned his head again. She shrugged at him, communicating that she didn't understand. He tried again, whatever endeavor he was attempting to explain to her. He touched his flattened palm against his temple, and pointed his index finger to the right again. She shook her head, slightly exasperated by his unclear message.

"Curious bit of conversation over there," Abraxas stated coolly.

Narcissa blushed and nearly yelped in surprise. Everyone turned in their direction at once, watching them. Abraxas was smirking deeply, his eyes were on Lucius.

"Is that how your generation has a private conversation at dinner?" He asked, basking in the awkward position he had created at their expense. "In my day, we didn't have so many secrets to keep."

"Oh, now," Cygnus cut in. "I'm sure that's a tale. Even I had secrets."

"Perhaps we should hear this great secret that my son has to tell your youngest daughter," Abraxas said, sitting back in his chair and poising himself with a wide smile upon his face, thoroughly pleased with himself.

Druella stared coldly over at Narcissa and murmured, "Yes, let's."

Narcissa felt their gazes shift from her to Lucius, as it was his secret to expose. His face was neutral, and his voice was low.

"I was going to ask Miss Black if she would like to see the fountain that her grandfather gave you," Lucius said. "She appeared most interested; I merely wondered if it wouldn't please her to view it."

"I believe it is _snowing_," Abraxas stated. "And therefore frozen."

"The fountain doesn't lose its beauty because of the weather," Lucius argued.

"Well it would be rather cold, don't you think?" He asked, laughing.

The table erupted in polite laughter with him, but neither Lucius nor Narcissa found it funny. Why were parents so awkward? She burned with humiliation.

"I think what Lucius is gathering is that we are far too old to bring quality conversation to the dinner table," Abraxas remarked, as their food and plates disappeared. "Let us adjourn to the parlor for tea? We shall bore them entirely with the most mundane topics as a punishment for their youth."

Narcissa rose when Bellatrix did. Everyone but Lucius was standing. He glanced at her, indicating to stay behind. She followed her parents to the door until they went through, and she turned around toward Lucius. He had stood up, and met her across the threshold.

"Miss Black, I…" His eyes swept up to the door nervously, and then he turned back to her. "Would you fancy a turn around the manor? I could show you more of it, if you like."

"I think we are supposed to go into the parlor," Narcissa said. "I don't believe your father meant it to be negotiable…"

His mother came through the door just then. It appeared that she too had slipped away from the group.

"Forgive me," She said. "I noticed the both of you were not following. Come quickly to the parlor, Lucius, Narcissa. Whatever conversation you need to have, do so later before your father becomes angry with you."

They followed her back to the parlor. It seemed that Lucius was torn between telling her off and respecting her, but he consented briskly. Narcissa was quite sure that whatever excuse Lady Malfoy could procure would not be enough to satisfy her family. She entered the room next to what Narcissa knew to be her own parlor. The guest sitting room must have been in between the husband's and the wife's rooms.

"Ah, we were wondering where you three had gone off to," Abraxas announced heartily.

"I opened the curtains so that Narcissa would have an adequate view of the fountain without being subjected to the cold," Odelia responded quietly, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

Narcissa sat on the divan next to Bellatrix, while Lucius stood by the fireplace, his arms folded across his chest. Her back was to him, but she imagined he was glaring at his father. Abraxas flourished a tray with tea and biscuits. Her mother poured and served. She said nothing to Narcissa, as if Lady Malfoy's lie had been acceptable enough for her.

"My dears, are any of you accomplished in music?" Abraxas asked Narcissa and Bellatrix, taking a sip from his tea.

Narcissa quickly shook her head, and consequently, received a stab in the side from Bellatrix with her elbow.

"I can play some piano," She said. "But I'm rubbish at it."

"Indulge me, would you?" He asked lightly.

"I really _am _terrible," Bellatrix protested. "I stumble over chords; I can hardly follow along to…"

"Please, Darling," Druella interrupted, her facial expression strained.

Bellatrix managed to keep a scowl off of her face, but her fists were tightly clenched, and her back was unnaturally straight. She took a seat at the small piano in the corner of the room, and she hesitated for a few moments, before she started to play. She was dreadful, incapable of transitioning across the keys with absolute success. She stumbled along the placement of the chords, often choosing to place her fingers down upon the wrong keys that were either too far over or not enough on the instrument. Her song was jaunty and displaced, yet somehow Abraxas applauded contentedly when she finished, as if she had performed a grand concerto.

"You have distinguished daughters, Cygnus," He complimented. "It is a shame that Bellatrix has chosen a Lestrange to betroth. You know, I still think that she and Lucius were quite a pair."

Her mother's expression was meek and weary, and she fumbled for a moment with a response. Behind her, the fire crackled intensely. Her mother glanced to Cygnus for help, but he seemed just as speechless.

"Yes—yes, they were," Druella finally stated.

"But, I think we will find that the new arrangement is undoubtedly the best," Abraxas announced. "Congratulations on your fine choice of a husband, Bellatrix."

He toasted her lightly, and then replaced his cup upon his saucer. The air was palpable anxiety. Several times, Narcissa realized she wasn't breathing and had to inhale suddenly, which nearly made her swoon.

"When are you preparing to select a bride for Lucius?" Druella asked. "Surely you do not anticipate during the summer? I would hate for Bellatrix's wedding to be overshadowed with the announcement."

"We are currently looking into a family in France," He explained. "Unfortunately, most of their daughters have not come into society yet. The eldest is just thirteen, so it would appear that our investigation is done in vain. We would much prefer a suitable English family besides."

Narcissa hadn't considered the fact that perhaps much of the business that Lucius conducted with his father would have something to do with brides and not about business at all. Of course. She hadn't thought, once again, that he might have similar troubles as her. She had time, though two years hardly seemed enough to find a husband. Perhaps that was why her mother stressed her socializing outside of her family and Lucius. Because there simply wasn't time in a mere two years.

"I would think that you would have no trouble finding a wife for Lucius," Druella commented.

"My son is stubborn," Abraxas said, letting his voice carry across to him. "We tried an arrangement with Pearl Parkinson as well, but of course, her lineage is questionable given that her aunt that snapped her wand in half and went to live with Muggles."

He shuddered at the idea and then continued, "And many of our other advances failed. The younger cousin, Mara Parkinson announced her engagement, and we had to cross her off from our list. She was one of the last choices given her birth order, as you know, but we were still…"

"Father, could you entertain us with a different subject?" Lucius interjected.

"Nonsense, this subject is perfectly adequate," His father objected, and he continued.

Narcissa heard the names that he rattled off. Nearly every eligible bride in Slytherin, a couple of Ravenclaws, and many whom were older, even out of _Hogwarts_, who had been destined to be an old maid. The desperation was clear to her, then. His mother and father were desperate, while Lucius seemed unrelenting and refusing of each and every selection.

"Narcissa, will you take a turn about the room with me?" Bellatrix asked her suddenly, placing her hand over hers. "I think I need to exercise my limbs a bit."

"Yes," She replied stiffly, wondering why her sister was behaving so well.

They rose from their seats, and Bellatrix placed her arm through Narcissa's, as if escorting her, and they began to walk around the room. Silently at first, but immediately Narcissa guessed that Bellatrix's plan was for private conversation. They passed Lucius, who glanced demurely in their direction, but also said nothing. She waited until they reached the back of the room, the farthest point from the others that were seated.

"They're looking at you for a prospective bride," She whispered furiously.

"_What_?" Narcissa replied, inclining her head toward her sister.

"Have you gone deaf? I said they're looking at _you_ for a prospective bride!"

Narcissa shook her head, "No, no. I heard you. How do you know?"

They reached the front of the room again. Bellatrix flashed Abraxas a bright smile, for he was watching them suspiciously.

"When are you anticipating a wedding if all goes according to plan?" Druella asked.

"Quite soon," Abraxas answered.

Both of them were observing Bellatrix and Narcissa's movements around the room.

"I _know_ because I understand how this whole process works," Bellatrix muttered. "And they're looking at you. You're only name they didn't mention on the list of eligible brides."

Narcissa didn't have the opportunity to immediately respond, and so she waited for their next approach to the back of the room.

"But I'm hardly fit," She whispered.

"Lucius won't have anyone else," Bellatrix said. "He must have tipped them off with the announcement of his formal alliance with you. They might think he is disinterested in everyone else because his affections lie with you."

"Impossible."

She and Bellatrix, having gone around the room six times, decided it was best to take a seat before their conversation was questioned. The context of the occasion seemed entirely different to her. Abraxas's sudden obnoxious behavior (which she had previously chocked up to him being a parent) and Lucius's apparent disregard for his father must have been instigated by the real point of the evening. That must have been what he was attempting to warn her about.

"Will you excuse us for one moment?" Abraxas questioned, after a few moments of light conversation on politics between he and Cygnus.

He stood up and held his hand out for Lady Malfoy, who accepted it graciously and rose from her seat. They left the parlor, at which point Lucius stirred from the fireplace and moved to the back of the room, where she and Bellatrix had shared a hushed conversation. Narcissa refused to look at him, in the chance that he might be attempting to send her another message that would be intervened and discussed at length in the most embarrassing way.

Abraxas returned by himself ten minutes later.

"My wife wished to retire early, but didn't want to be necessarily rude," He explained. "She tires easily."

"It would have been perfectly acceptable for her to turn in early if she wished," Druella commented politely.

"Thank you," Abraxas said, inclining his head toward her. "My son, come sit with us. These wonderful people are your guests too."

Reluctantly, Lucius sat in the seat that his mother had vacated.

"Now, let's turn our attention to Miss Narcissa," Abraxas said, smiling warmly at her. "We've heard so little from you this evening."

"She's quite shy," Druella said for her. "Quite the opposite of Bellatrix, really."

"Is that so?" He asked curiously.

"I'm sure once she's out in society more, she will become accustomed to the practices," Her mother continued.

"Naturally," Abraxas replied. "Lucius is quite reserved as well. Whatever brought the two of you into acquaintanceship if neither of you speak?"

The room laughed. Narcissa did so nervously, flitting her eyes from Abraxas to her mother. She clasped her hands together. Her palms were sweaty.

"I met her last summer at our ball," Lucius stated finally, resigned to the fact that Narcissa was staying silent. "She was by the refreshment table when I stumbled upon her."

"Oh? That simple? What made you like her?" Abraxas asked.

"She had an interesting thought on _Quidditch_," Lucius snapped.

"What was your thought on the sport, Narcissa?" His father directed his attention to her.

She fumbled for a moment, before saying, "That it scarcely began to entertain me, and those that were engaged in it were possibly…possibly daft."

Her mother and father began to laugh, which prompted Abraxas to as well. She smiled a little, but she was so nervous that she feared that she was going to retch all over the plush carpet.

"What a wonderful start to a friendship," He complimented.

It occurred to her that she had in fact been near the refreshment table last summer, and that he had approached it. Though he was intervened by a younger, more capable woman than she. Perhaps he was drawing inspiration from their possible conversation.

"I believe we should adjourn for the evening," Cygnus Black said after a few moments later of conversation. "I am sure we have taken up much of your holiday for rest."

Everyone stood. Abraxas led them to the entrance hall, where they collected their winter robes, scarves, and gloves. Narcissa walked to the wardrobe closet to fetch hers, and she had one arm slipped through when Lucius came around behind her, helping her with the other sleeve. One of his hands was flattened against the small of her back. She felt something crumpled between the two of them. When she turned to curtsey and thank him, he reached for her hand and kissed it delicately. He pressed the crumpled piece of parchment tucked in his fingers into her palm.

They lingered at goodbyes, affectionately wishing Lucius and Abraxas a Happy Christmas, and then they left the home. The spell upon their walkway and drive was still effective, as she felt a slight chill, but nothing like she imagined the actual temperature was like.

"Well, that was miserable," Her mother announced.

No one commented upon it, but Narcissa was quite sure everyone agreed. She exhaled in relief, and unfolded the parchment that Lucius had given to her. Her family began to speak about the positive aspects of the night, not wanting to look upon the evening as terrible, so she had the liberty of examining it. It read:

_With your consent, I would like to arrange a meeting before the holidays end._


	8. Chapter 8

_I met a lady in the meads__  
__Full beautiful, a faery's child;__  
__Her hair was long, her foot was light,__  
__And her eyes were wild._

_La Belle Dame Sans Merci _by John Keats

Her hands were trembling. She nervously paced her room, biting her bottom lip and frantically considering her predicament. Narcissa stopped to sit at her vanity table, where she had left the piece of parchment that had arrived to her in the morning, though luckily it came after breakfast so that she would not need to explain the details to her family.

Lucius had begun writing her, which she found mostly made her fret far more then perhaps she needed. His words were eloquently arranged with neat handwriting. Her responses were petty, often sparse. He wrote on a variety of subjects, each one becoming progressively more impassioned and consequently longer. In consequence, Narcissa was unsure what to make of it. Had this come from their new alliance? Did he feel permitted to share his thoughts upon the world merely because he decided upon a friendship? She wasn't prepared for it.

Her heart was bleeding; many times she felt she could sob from the pain of it. Narcissa tried to disengage herself, accept her fate however he fashioned her to be. She would congratulate him on his choice of wife (which he never spoke of, as if it were not a subject worthy of considering) when it was announced, for that was the only option. Fool! She had wished for reckless love and she had received it bountifully.

She burned each letter after she received them, lest someone come upon them and read them. It felt necessary, though she could not be certain that he did the same. She allowed herself to love him for enough time to spare a response, and then she let him go. But his letters were increasing, and he wrote often enough that she could expect two letters a day – one by morning and one by evening. However, her most anguished concern was not over his frequency, but of his persistent requests to see her again. She was unsure of his motive, though perhaps he had come to regard her as friend. If so, Narcissa wanted to accept, but she feared the consequences of allowing herself delusions. She could not love him. That truth was a hardened sword upon her chest. A thousand years of life could not prepare her for this kind of slow death.

Narcissa responded to his letter, preparing an excuse she hardly deemed adequate enough for him to understand. She wasn't sure how to address the issue with her parents, she explained. It was a delicate situation. She hoped he wouldn't press the issue. Narcissa tied the scroll to his owl's leg, and opened the window enough for it to slip out.

She heard her mother in the hall, and she quickly stowed the letter away for safe keeping in the drawer at her vanity table. Her mother was calling for her sister. Bellatrix and her mother were spending the evening with Rodolphus's family to celebrate the New Year. To be rid of them would bring her a minimal amount of peace at least.

Narcissa heaved herself across her bed. Poppy, sensing her distress, began to purr quite loudly, rubbing his head against her hand as she reached forward to pat him. His over-large eyes were closed as he sprawled against her side. She did feel more relaxed, though she wished she was capable of confiding in her little cat, instead of listening to her thoughts without releasing them. Perhaps the translation would be lost if she were to vocalize them anyway. Some things were only beautiful then. When they were hidden, darkened, and mostly forgotten.

His response came back to her an hour or so later. She had been writing so much that her hands were stained with black ink. Small evidences of her troubles, she supposed. He was adamant, though not angry, about arranging some kind of occasion. Narcissa had managed to ignore the invitations thus far, often feigning illness or claiming that another caller had come to the house. It wasn't that she didn't wish to see him. It was just absurd to envision her life with him. Furthermore, her mother had become firm in her opinion against their friendship. She thought it damaging to her reputation to be so very attached to one person at social events without any announcement of engagement. Narcissa was a coward. She feared the reaction her mother might have if she consented to Lucius's request. It seemed easier to tell him no than to lose him completely.

Sighing, her heart burdened with the lies she had weaved, she wrote back to him. In this, she explained more thoroughly about her worries - about her fear of requesting a visit with him, and the implications her mother would see thereof, hoping that he would perhaps understand. His owl had taken to perching on her bed post patiently while she wrote. She began placing water and supplying him with treats for his effort; she imagined he grew tired of flying back and forth so many times. Especially with the rampant snowstorms that had begun across the country just after Christmas.

Druella opened her bedroom door just as she was securing the scroll onto the owl. She opened the door, and he flew out daringly into the storm.

"You have been writing a lot of letters recently," Her mother commented, her tone raised in suspicion.

Narcissa turned from the window and said, "Mara Parkinson has been confiding in me her wedding plans."

"Seems she would have exhausted all of those in a few exchanges."

"She has a lot of ideas, none of which she is sure appropriate," She explained, wondering if her mother was even considering that she was telling the truth. "Color and flower arrangements, for example. She says she hasn't a lot of time to prepare."

"I should think her mother would assist her," She replied lightly. "We are going to look for wedding gowns with Bellatrix the day after you return for summer holiday."

"Isn't that rather late?"

"Well, yes," Her mother huffed. "But your sister wanted to attend her seventh year; otherwise this would have all been sorted out by now. It's no matter."

Her mother seemed to notice that they had strayed off topic, and that she had not expressed her reason for seeking Narcissa in the first place.

"I was just coming to tell you that your sister and I are leaving," She said. "Enjoy your evening; I shan't suspect us being back before midnight."

"Have a wonderful time," Narcissa murmured, as her mother quickly left the room.

She exhaled deeply. She had hoped to find the courage to ask her mother if she could call upon the Malfoy household, but she knew that was out of the question. However, she did wonder whether or not her father could be persuaded. Perhaps he would attend with her and act as her chaperon. She wasn't sure why Lucius wished to be in her company at his home, it wasn't as though private conversation was applicable. They might be permitted to sit with one another toward the back of the parlor, perhaps. Quiet conversation could be had without being entirely overheard.

Lucius's owl returned in a record time that she hadn't anticipated. She was mulling over the possible conversation she could have with her father, and so she, in a daze, walked across the room and opened up her window again. The owl screeched at her, and stood at the sill until she untied the parchment from his leg, and then he settled on the frame. She saw a flash of lamp-like eyes beneath her bed. Poppy was entranced by the other animal, no doubt wishing to sink his teeth and claws into its feathers.

_Miss Black,_

_ I could request to call upon you, if you do not wish to ask yourself. My condolences for the discomfort it may have caused you to consider asking company with me when it is difficult for your mother to consent, I was not aware of this predicament. However, I am at your disposal. _

_Your friend,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

She placed the letter over the candle upon her table, and watched it turn to ash before she looked out of her window. She could not see Bellatrix or her mother walking down the driveway, though she doubted that they would go by carriage in the current state of the weather. She tried to listen carefully for sounds about the house, but she could hear nothing. Narcissa stood up. The owl hooted loudly at her as she left the room.

Her father was in the parlor, which confirmed that her mother and sister had gone. He was reading from a leather bound book, which he closed and tucked beneath a pillow when she opened the door.

"Cissy," He greeted.

"Papa, I wanted to ask you something," She said quickly, knowing if she didn't say it immediately, she wouldn't be able to say it at all.

He paused for a moment, before suggesting, "You've decided you want to go to the Lestrange's?"

"N—no. Well," Narcissa was slightly dizzy, "It's just that…well, Lucius asked that I call upon his manor."

A smile fell across his features. He pulled his pipe up to his mouth, which was magically lit, and smoked from it.

"This evening?" Cygnus asked her. "Conveniently when your mother is out of the house and cannot protest?"

"That's a completely random happenstance," Narcissa remarked coolly.

She grasped the back of the chair nearest her so that she wouldn't swoon.

Cygnus laughed, "Little minx. Write to him; tell him I've allowed it."

Narcissa was astonished. She stared for a few minutes, and he waved his hand at her to be off. She turned, her heart beating sporadically in her chest. A smile came across her face that she could not suppress. She took the stairs as quickly as she could.

Upon entrance to her room, she noted that the hangings were again demolished. Poppy was in a seething, hissing fit upon the bed, and the owl was atop her wardrobe chest, squawking angrily, his feathers ruffled. Narcissa hardly noticed. She scribbled a response. Her fingers were shaking so that she blotched half of the parchment with ink, an assured sign that Lucius would see was nerves, though she could not worry herself about it. She rolled it up and went to the chest and held out her arm for the owl to step upon. She attached the letter, and opened the window.

She rushed to her wardrobe, slipping her fingers across each of the fabrics, wondering if she should dress in a fanciful manner, or if her current attire was appropriate. She changed into the dress robes she had received for her birthday. They were green, with a partial train and long sleeves. She pulled a black cloak across her and went to her vanity table. Carefully, she rearranged her braid across her shoulder, and tried to make her hair combs presentable. Finally finished, she wondered how she would call. She couldn't Apparate! And she could hardly take a carriage…

His response came with an answer. He was going to come to her. Narcissa twisted the parchment anxiously. She was flitting back and forth across the room, wondering what this meeting would imply. Could he return her affections? She doubted it. Perhaps he had grown accustomed to her, and merely wished to accommodate her and allow her to wallow in self-pity and tell him of her angst ridden thoughts and fears. She had told him too much. She should have been more mysterious, more aloof and uncaring. But she allowed herself to spill too much, perhaps she had even given a wrong perception about her miseries and shallow bits of sadness which she was daring enough to cling to. She was entirely too pessimistic and worse, she was worrisome.

An hour after his letter had been received she heard a knock on the door. It was a booming sound in her frantic ears. She yelped. The sudden awareness of his presence made her dizzy; she felt faint all at once and had to sit in her chair for a moment, cradling her head in her hands. Her fear was palpable, forming in bumps along her skin and her heart, which was thumping away. It occurred to her that her father might not answer the door, since he resisted it so often.

She pulled out a fan from one of the drawers at her table, and waved it quickly upon her. She was already exasperated, tired for the evening from a slight nervous affliction. Finally, with shaky limbs and fingers that could not quite grasp her doorknob, she stepped into the hallway. She heard another knock from downstairs. It was some sort of magic in place, her mother had said, so that she could listen for visitors even if she was upstairs.

When she finally reached the second floor, she walked down the corridor to the last set of stairs. It felt like it was taking years for her to arrive from one destination to the other, though it had never seemed much of an effort before. She heard her father greet Lucius downstairs, and it surprised her that he had gone and opened the door. Perhaps he grew tired of the knocking.

They were standing in the foyer when she came down the stairs. She did her best not to walk too slowly, but not quickly enough to seem overenthusiastic. Or worse, too quickly or slowly and fall. Her steps were quiet, and they hadn't noticed her arrival yet. Narcissa knew, however, that the fifth step from the bottom always squeaked, and if her presence wasn't known by the time she reached it, then it would be afterward. Sure enough, upon the fifth step, they noticed the squeak.

"Ah, late but fashionably so, I would say," Cygnus said. "You might be influencing my daughter too much, Lucius. She is ordinarily on time."

"My apologies, sir," He responded, laughing.

He bowed to her as she stepped forward, and she quickly dipped into a curtsey. It felt like she had not seen him in years, though she knew that was silly. His features seemed different somehow, as if she were unaccustomed to them once again, even though she was quite certain that they were no different than before. His face was even aristocratic. A touch of high cheek bones and pointedness that evolved along the plane of his forehead, across his nose to his chin. He wore distinct black robes with rich fabric.

"Your parents are expecting her, yes?" Cygnus asked.

She understood the meaning of his question. In one answer, it would tell him that she would be both invited and carefully chaperoned.

"Of course," Lucius responded. "They told me that they would be happily anticipating her arrival."

"And you are capable of Apparating safely with my daughter, or would you need assistance?"

Lucius inclined his head and replied, "Quite capable, sir, I assure you."

"Very well," Cygnus said. "Bring her before her mother returns home; otherwise she will be quite angered."

"It will be done, sir," He promised.

Her father walked back into the parlor. He made a show of shutting the door behind him, and silence captured the foyer after he had gone. Narcissa collected her scarf and gloves from the chest by the door, and then she opened it, welcomed by a gust of snow and wind. Lucius followed her outside, and he kept an even pace with her. She was sure his was much more brisk, particularly in the cold.

"I am quite surprised you accepted, Miss Black," Lucius admitted, though it was mentioned without implicit emotion. "I was certain you were eluding me on purpose."

"Out of petty fear, I'm afraid," Narcissa admitted.

"Why would you fear me?" He asked her, quite surprised.

They reached the end of the driveway, and she was silent. She did not wish to tell him that she loved him, and that it was the source of her fear. But it was true. She dared not allow herself to think it again.

"I will attempt to make amends with whatever qualm you may have about me. Is that fair?" He asked her.

"Yes," She said.

He offered his hand for hers, and she accepted. He pulled her forward, as if to embrace her, but then she was swirling and spinning through the air. The sensation almost made her sick. The way gravity tried to pry her body into pieces was daunting and frightful, and she wondered if she would ever be able to do so herself.

They arrived at the gate, but he remained still. She could hear his even breathing in the cold. It had stopped snowing in the country, and only silence surrounded them. Her breath exhaled in a fog.

"Your face is flushed from the cold," Lucius commented.

She touched her hand to her cheek. The heat resonated through her gloves. She smiled at him, for his face was possibly just the same as hers. He let go of her hand suddenly, as if he had forgotten that they had been linked in that way. He held out his arm instead, and she took it politely. He closed the distance between them. Her breath caught as she brushed her shoulder against him.

His parents were not in the foyer waiting for them. She had suspected that they would be, for hers were prone to curiously peering into the entrance hall whenever someone called. Typically, it was a guest for them anyway, though occasionally Bellatrix had friends over in the summer. The house was grandly lit again. She wondered if they prepared it so, or if they were accustomed to the light. Their manor was usually so dark whenever they hosted, perhaps they didn't wish others to see their valuables.

"My parents have taken tea to their opposite parlors," Lucius said carefully.

He turned and took off his coat. She pulled her gloves off and handed them to him when he reached for them. He secured them in the coat closet for her. She peeled off her scarf next, which she had wrapped seven times about her so that it wouldn't cause her to splinch during Apparition. She wasn't even sure if that would happen, but she didn't wish to take the chance.

"Is that customary?" Narcissa asked him, as she unfastened her cloak at her throat, and handed it to him as well.

"It isn't necessarily traditional," He responded. "But well within the rules."

Narcissa, having never called upon another's home, and especially not a male, could not confirm whether or not he was lying. Bellatrix would know, of course, but Narcissa was also willing to believe that her sister was more inclined to break the rules rather than follow them.

"I have a surprise for you," Lucius announced. "My father and I got into a bit of an argument over the garden and how it wasn't presentable to you over Christmas. We have now arranged it so that we hope it will fit your tastes."

He led her to the ballroom. The floor length curtains were parted and tied so that the brightly lit garden could be viewed from the large paned windows. The ballroom was dimmed, perhaps so that the lights from the garden could shine through. She noted, as he escorted across the wide floor, that they must have recently waxed the floors. How often did they do so? Narcissa was increasingly curious about the Malfoy family, and whether or not they were as normal as her family, or if they were altogether different. Their society romanticized them, made them such legacies that no one knew how they really functioned. Thus far, they had provided her with no information to suggest even a hint of imperfection. She wondered how they could manage so. Maybe she was just oblivious too.

The garden was deeply warm, almost humid. She stepped from the cool room into the warmth of it. The hedges were brightly bursting with blossoms. Ivy grew along the fences in deep, spiraling curls. The fountain was spritzing. The area had been landscaped since the she had seen it. The plants created a small maze to the center – the fountain – and wrapped around to the back fence, which led to the forest beyond. She spotted marble benches nestled near some of the blooms, and a sheen canopy tied from one large tree to another. Beneath it was a table and chairs, which she noted was heavily decorated with a thick golden table cloth and blazing blue stems of Forget-Me-Nots.

"I had tea prepared for us," Lucius announced. "I hope that you don't mind."

"No," Narcissa said quickly.

He held out a chair for her when they reached the table. Her seat had the most perfect view of the garden. Brightly lit candles were positioned along the fence, and glowing orbs danced above their heads.

"I'm not sure who lost the argument," She began, as he sat opposite of her. "You or your father."

"As it would seem most things go," Lucius said. "I won."

"I see," Narcissa said, laughing.

She poured tea into the cup in front of her, and then added sugar and cream. She watched him as she stirred with the small spoon. He took two spoonfuls of sugar and poured cream into his cup until the liquid was very pale. She wanted to remember that, although she wasn't sure why.

"I am curious, Miss Black," Lucius commented, after a few moments of silence between them. "Are you able to marry today?"

Narcissa took a sip from the cup, and replaced it delicately upon its saucer. Lucius's smile was genuine. His fingers were arranged around his cup.

"How could I?" She asked. "I am enjoying tea in a wonderfully warm garden in the middle of winter with you. This is no place for marriage."

"Curious, my parents thought so," Lucius retorted.

"Perhaps the times were different then," Narcissa suggested. "Are _you_ prepared to marry today?"

"I'm afraid not," He told her. "The _time _just isn't right."

"You don't have a lot of time left, you know," Narcissa commented, hoping he would not shy from the topic.

She had wanted to address her fears for him for a long while, but he brushed it aside or chose to not address the issue at all. He had to be nervous. He had to know what it would do to him if he did not marry. He would be desired by no one. She wasn't sure what the male equivalent to a spinster was. Maybe they would perceive him mad, send him off to St. Mungo's. His parents might even send him there under pretense, to give an explanation for his refusal. Or perhaps it was simple for men, and they could move on with their lives if they chose to never involve themselves in such a messy tangle of matrimony.

"Is the big picture very important to you, Miss Black?" Lucius asked her. "Or are the small details the ones that should be cherished?"

Narcissa furrowed her eyebrows.

"I suppose the smaller ones, which doesn't make the bigger picture any less important. What does that have to do with your marriage, Lucius?"

"I don't want to think about it, Miss Black," He told her. "It's the big picture, and what does it matter if it ends as it would be intended? I prefer this."

"This?" She asked.

"What we are doing now," Lucius said. "Sitting here, enjoying tea as friends. These are small cumulative moments that won't prepare me for an ultimate goal, but are nonetheless enjoyable."

"Lucius, forgive me, but this is your life that you are gambling," Narcissa told him. "It is very…very privileged of you to ignore your fate this way. None of us have your freedom. Many of us must have whoever will take us at the first opportunity. To deny one means to deny them all – and you...Lucius, you have choices. Don't take that for granted or one day you won't have them at all."

He was quiet for a moment, evaluating her words. She looked down at her lap, and clasped her fingers together. She wondered if he would order her out. Sever their ties and insist she be blacklisted. Maybe he would he even strike her, if he felt her deserving enough. Narcissa was terribly inept.

"So you would have me marry the first girl that I am considerate enough to fancy?" Lucius asked her. His voice was calm, but his words were cold. "It seems to me that the people beyond me have my freedoms and choose the way I do. In fact, I think your _sister_ is a rather fantastic example of someone besides me that took _fate_ into her own hands."

"You would mention my sister," Narcissa snapped. "A woman that has managed more freedom by playing roulette against herself, which she accomplished only because she is the first born. She had choices. She was born with them. Just like you."

"So what I am to garner from this lecture, Miss Black, is that you are envious of my freedom because of your own misfortune?" He questioned. "Is that it, Miss Black? Do you come here seeking my aid? Do you call yourself my friend because you are asking for a favor?"

"I have only honest intentions," She murmured.

"And is this why you have chosen to be so cold?" Lucius asked. "Your honest intentions lead you to believe that I am merely toying with my parents and my own life? Have I misguided you, Miss Black? Have I made you believe that I am such a selfish and unworthy person that you would admit it to me?"

"You are neither selfish nor unworthy, Lucius, I assure you—"

"Then if you find me acceptable company, Miss Black," Lucius interjected. "Why do you think critically of me? Is it my misguidance or your misfortune?"

She stood up at once, slamming her palms against the table. The china on the table shook from her force. Several of the orbs burst at her sudden explosion of anger.

"I have confided in you most earnestly," She began, her teeth clenched. "And I receive nothing from you but vague comments and redirected arguments. To say you have misguided me is a disgusting truth about your character, Lucius Malfoy, but knowing what you know about me, you should know that my frustration in your situation comes only from my lack of knowledge of you, and is therefore a derived opinion stemming from my _misfortune_, as you are so apt to call it."

"Come with me," Lucius demanded suddenly.

Narcissa was taken aback. Her anger had ebbed into confusion and curiosity, and she stalked after him. He walked so quickly that it was very difficult for her to follow. Narcissa held up the hem of her robes and hurried after him ungracefully, her slippers scuffing against the floor. He burst through the ballroom doors into the foyer. He walked with both hands at his side, his back straight. His fists were clenched in anger. She followed him up the first floor steps, and he crossed the long darkened corridor to the next set of staircases.

She had to jog down the corridor and up the stairs to keep up with him. At several points, he was a floor ahead of her. Her robes did not allow comfortable movement, in particular, not this sort of exercise. She slowed down at the third floor corridor, as he had stopped for her. When she reached him, he turned on his heel and continued silently up to the fourth floor stairs. Narcissa panted, holding onto the railing until she caught her breath, and then she climbed them too.

The fourth floor, as it had been explained to her, was a library. There were dozens of rows of books. It was almost as large as the library at _Hogwarts_. There was a divided half of the room. A staircase led to the upper portion of the library, where more books were. There were tables and divans sporadically placed. Lucius began walking down the main aisle. She followed. The chandeliers above them blew out, leaving each section darkened as they walked. Narcissa was nervous and out of breath. She had never been one for athletics. Now she wished she were.

He reached the last row and veered sharply left. The final chandelier blew, and she was left in utter darkness. Narcissa inhaled sharply, wondering if he were so angered with her that he might try to kill her. She had trusted too easily, hadn't she?

Narcissa crept upon the row. He was visible enough, a light silhouette against the darkened room. A small window was open. The sunset was casting a small bit of light across him. It reached her face too, bathing her in a small glow. She stepped into the aisle, and pressed her back against the bookcase opposite of him.

"The garden wasn't an apt place to speak honestly," Lucius explained. "My parents were chaperoning us from their respective parlors."

"Won't they notice that we aren't there, then?" Narcissa asked him.

"Being on the fourth floor gives them ample opportunity to search for us," Lucius told her.

"You desire to berate me in private then?" She questioned.

He cupped his hands around her face and kissed her ardently. The library was silent around them, faintly smelling of dust and parchment. The sun sank beneath the horizon, and the last beam of light faded from the window around them.

They parted.

Narcissa's expression was wild and confused, but Lucius was neutral. He turned away from her and backtracked across the room. As he walked, the chandeliers burst into flame again, bathing the library. She quickened her pace to meet up with him.

She wasn't sure what to say. He led her back down the stairs, though he wasn't as urgent as before. Perhaps he had resolved whatever curiosity he may have had with her. She hadn't considered before that his friendship might have stemmed from a prospective idea of romance, and now that it had been exhausted, he desired nothing further from her. It was a mere kiss – hardly innocent, though she could not imagine that it would extinguish their relationship to such an extent that he would entirely dismiss her.

"Perhaps I should be leaving," Narcissa said, having finally mustered the courage to speak as they reached the second floor.

"I would be more than happy to assist you, Miss Black," Lucius replied briskly.

His father was waiting for them at the end of the staircase. His appearance clearly took Lucius by surprise too, as he dramatically slowed down as he reached the first step and saw Abraxas Malfoy.

"I labored so extensively on the landscaping of the garden, and my son has not let you experience it thoroughly," Abraxas Malfoy stated.

She reached the marble floor, and deeply curtseyed in front of him. She wondered if he thought badly of her. Oh, dear. Her reputation might become just as scandalous as Phoebe Greengrass's after all. Her mother would be displeased. Rather, discovering her evening would displease her greatly. She had no doubt that Abraxas would slip in front of her if he called upon their home or corresponded with her in any way. They danced with one another so often that she could imagine it would be an addressed subject.

"I wished to show her the library, Father," Lucius spoke. "It was the only floor that Miss Black had not seen before."

"The garden is climate controlled, you know," Abraxas replied. "It's a surprisingly tricky bit of magic that I learned from my father."

Narcissa flourished another curtsey and said, "It was lovely, sir. You created a very handsome garden indeed."

"I was just about to return Miss Black to her home, sir," Lucius said. "We adjourned to the library quickly so that she might have a look around. I promised her a few volumes that will aid in her O.W.L.'s this year."

"You're a fifth year, Narcissa?" Abraxas asked, raising his eyebrows. "How curious! I thought you were a fourth year."

"No sir," She answered.

"Have you been made Prefect?"

"No, sir."

"It is less stressful without that duty anyway," He said. "Isn't it, Lucius? How many letters have I received from your Head of House about you skipping your Prefect duties now?"

Lucius's tone was hollow as he answered, clearly only to appease his father, "Seventeen, sir."

Abraxas's eyes fell back upon Narcissa. He was smiling, though there was a great deal of seriousness to his tone. "He exasperates me terribly. I can't imagine how often he troubles you, dear."

"He is charming and well-mannered in my company. I assure you, Master Malfoy," Narcissa answered. "He does not give me so many burdens as he does you."

"All in due time," Lucius interjected.

Abraxas smirked. "Speaking of time, my son, I do believe you have to assure Cygnus Black that his most treasured possession reaches him quite soon."

"Yes, I suppose we must leave."

"Thank you for letting me call upon your manor, sir," Narcissa sank into another curtsey. Her ankles and knees immediately protested. "And for landscaping your garden. Your home is extraordinary."

"Come again, Miss Black," Abraxas replied.

She slipped her hand through Lucius's as he offered it to her. Her fingers rested on the fabric at the crook of his elbow. She heard Abraxas Malfoy's footsteps as he took his leave to his parlor. As he shut the door behind him, the lights in the foyer went out, and they were left in darkness. She glanced at Lucius to gauge his reaction, but his eyes were upon the window, as if trying to discern the state of the weather. He collected her winter robes, scarf, and gloves for her. She stepped into the light coming from the multi-paned window to fasten her cloak at her throat quickly, and then arrange her gloves and scarf upon her.

He opened the door for her, and the cold swept up to her in a flourish. Upon stepping outside, the charms they had weaved began warming her.

"My father has a strange sense of humor," Lucius told her. "Forgive him."

"I must have not understood his joke," Narcissa said. "What was it?"

"I was mistaken then," He said. "He has done nothing."

Narcissa suspected that he was keeping a sociable distance from her, as if she were impartial, because he anticipated that his father would be watching from the parlor window, or perhaps he had placed another enchantment around the driveway so that he could listen in, as he had been able in the garden.

He opened the wrought iron gate for her. The spells weren't effective as she walked through the gate. The front lawn was fenced by wrought iron with pointed pikes with high yew hedges around it. From the outside, she could not view the lawn or the manor. He shut the gate behind him. The cold made the gate creak.

Lucius took her by the shoulder. She closed her eyes, anticipating that they would Apparate, but instead he guided her away from the gate, securely behind the high hedges. She opened her eyes confusedly.

"My father and I will be in Diagon Alley tomorrow morning," He told her.

"I hope you enjoy your visit," Narcissa said.

"Ah. Well, thank you..." Lucius said quickly. "I meant to say that we will be there tomorrow around nine. It was an invitation. Perhaps your father would come with you?"

"I'm not so sure he would consent, he loathes shopping," She told him.

"Could you not be chaperoned?"

"By whom?" Narcissa asked.

"Would Regulus act in your favor?"

"Hardly," Narcissa said. "He refuses to chaperon any of us unless he's made to."

"I see. That's unfortunate indeed," He said softly. "I am terribly sorry to act out of turn, Miss Black. Please excuse my rudeness."

"It's quite fine," She replied.

Lucius was explicitly hesitant. She was confused by his sudden shift in behavior, though she imagined their argument had demolished the comfortable peace that had existed between them.

"I should take you home," He said.

"Perhaps," Narcissa responded. "I'm sure my mother and sister will be home within the hour."

She felt slightly embarrassed and mostly awkward. He was peering down at her. His arms were folded behind his back, and he seemed to have no motivation for asking for her hand to Apparate. What conversation could be gained from this instance? She was growing colder and anxious as each moment passed between them.

"Could I ask something of you?" He asked her.

Her heart hammered in her chest suddenly, pumping so quickly that the words in her throat dispersed and the only thing left was a dizziness and a numbness that coursed through her body so suddenly that she almost swayed.

"Yes?"

"Would you allow me to express my gratification of our friendship?" Lucius asked.

She nodded, for words would not muster on the tip of her tongue, and her brain had possibly short circuited and dismissed her entirely. He kissed her, his lips forming strong against hers, which molded to his with such gracious ease. Lucius released his arms from behind his back, and held her solidly at her shoulders.

They began to Apparate. Gravity pulled at her in all directions. He kissed her deeply. Full minutes passed between them, locked in this way, the world spinning about them. It was reckless, she realized. He could splinch the both of them. But the stupid trust she held for him kept her calm, and she could scarcely be bothered. It was another moment which she could allow herself to love him, and in this instance, it was almost as if he loved her too.

They arrived on her doorstep, a clear sign that he had not been considering all things appropriately. All of her limbs were firmly attached to her. He broke apart from her, perhaps realizing that they had come upon her home.

"Goodnight, Miss Black," Lucius said shortly.

She watched his retreating back until he was gone, and the only thing left in his absence was sound.


	9. Chapter 9

_Well, now, __  
__if little by little you stop loving me__  
__I shall stop loving you little by little. __If suddenly__  
__you forget me__  
__do not look for me, __  
__for I shall already have forgotten you._

_If You Forget Me_ by Pablo Neruda

The Black family was seated in the dining hall during breakfast. Druella Black insisted she work on wedding plans with Bellatrix at the table, and thus they sat across from one another. Narcissa watched the snow melt from the pale sun that gathered courage at the window.

"There will be flower arrangements on each table during the reception," Druella said, scribbling notes down with her quill. "Red roses are most practical, I think."

"I hate roses," Bellatrix argued, stirring milk into her tea. "I want ice sculptures as a centerpiece for each table."

Her mother sighed heavily, "Bellatrix, there will be over four hundred guests. It is impractical to have ice sculptures at an outdoor reception in the middle of summer."

"There isn't some sort of spell to keep them frozen?"

"Well…I suppose…"

"How about roses and ice sculptures? Now we _both_ get what we want."

Her mother began furiously scratching out her markings, and revising the arrangements. Bellatrix folded her arms across her chest smugly. Narcissa wondered why she bothered writing things down. Her sister had evolved her ideas for centerpieces seven times in the course of a few weeks. It seemed like a waste of time to record it. Weddings seemed like such a waste of time, having listened all morning to their useless bickering over taste and practicality.

Christmas holiday was over in three days, to her dismay, as she had once again grown accustomed to remaining idle at home. However reluctant she was to engage in her studies again, the troubling turn of events in concern to her relationship to Lucius consumed her brain, made her welcome the distraction from him. He had not written her since she visited his manor three days prior. The lack of him left her in a distinctly poor mood, one she was sure her family had noticed. She complained of class instead, insisting she was better off with a governess, but her lies were well-concealed and artfully carried forth. She had become quite good at pouting, as it hid her real concerns from everyone. But never from herself.

She excused herself from the table almost immediately after her father had gone, and she gathered her cloak and winter attire. She decided, since the sun had begun to shine and the wind had settled, that it would not be so cold. Narcissa had never been one for walks. She preferred to brood without the fear of becoming lost, and thus she decided that the walk was one of exercise and not excessive thought.

Narcissa slipped from the door carefully, hoping she would not alert her father from the parlor or her mother from the dining room. She would be in for tea before they noted her absence.

The front lawn was speckled in bright rays of color that reflected off of the snow. Her breathing came easy here, but it was a seeping coldness when it met her lungs. The house elves had cleared a path to the end of the driveway for visitors, though she was disappointed to find that they had not been clever enough to use warming charms.

Her home was in an obscure magical community. Her manor was atop a hill and the winding streets led to minor cousins of the major families that she knew of. There were a few others as well that were pureblood, but unimportant. Blood traitors. Families with reputations. It occurred to her that perhaps her family had chosen the correct place to let their legacy die.

Narcissa walked down the path to the end of the hill, which outstretched a long view of Muggle shopping. She turned, and began walking back up the hill. She suddenly regretted this decision. It was a much more laborious endeavor returning to her home, and she wondered suddenly if she even could. Her ankles burned and her knees ached painfully. Her lungs became restricted and her breathing was uneven and painful. It took her half an hour to reach the top of the hill, even though it had only been a ten minute walk to the bottom. When she reached the edge of her yard, her calves were trembling so that she could barely walk.

The door opened as she approached. It was her father. She must have alerted him whenever she had gone.

"Cissy?" He asked her, puzzled.

He strode toward her. She noticed that he had forgotten his winter robes or gloves. Narcissa hadn't meant to cause him worry. Perhaps he thought she would leave like Andromeda. Maybe they were all waiting for her to sink out of existence next.

"Where did you go?"

"I went for a walk, Papa," Narcissa explained. "Down the hill."

"You've never gone on walks before," He paused for a long moment. "You are going through something, aren't you?"

"No, sir," She said.

"I sent a lovely daughter to _Hogwarts_ for a seemingly normal year and she returns to me entirely different," Cygnus Black commented lightly.

He motioned for her to walk with him about the yard. She was just catching her breath, and she wanted to refuse, but she didn't want to disappoint him, so she ignored the stabbing pain in her side and her trembling legs as she moved with him.

"I don't think I have changed so much, father," Narcissa told him.

At least her situation was not so different. She would still become a spinster, die alone and broken without social contacts. She would still become a scorned name upon her family's lips. She presumed Aunt Walburga would eventually burn her face and name from the tapestry, just as she had Andromeda. The eventual eradication of Sirius was coming, though she knew her aunt was still hoping that he would prove to be less of a scandal. According to her mother, he had moved into James Potter's home after the incident with Bellatrix.

"We don't notice the changes we become," Her father said. "I wanted to speak with you in private, but have only just had the opportunity."

"Of course, father," Narcissa replied.

"Candra Zabini's father informed me that you rejected his marriage proposal," Cygnus Black said sternly. "He sent me an owl just the other day about it."

Narcissa tried to think quickly, "I scarcely thought he was serious."

"Unfortunately for him, he was," Her father said, a slow smile crossing his features. "Which leads me to believe that you have, in fact, changed in quite the way I asked you to."

"I see."

"And now, I must ask you a very sensitive question that you won't wish to answer," Cygnus said. His smile became a frown. "Has Lucius Malfoy asked for your hand, Cissy?"

He was quite right. She did not wish to ever answer the question that she knew everyone was possibly expecting, but one she could not deliver. He had not asked her hand, though Bellatrix had assured her that his family was interested. She hadn't expected anything from him, of course. He had made gestures toward his reluctance to marry in the garden. He wasn't seeking an ultimate goal, she had to remember. He wished for memories. He wanted small cumulative incidents to make his life seem productive and worthy.

"No," She said at last.

Knowing the answer and releasing it was more painful than she could have imagined. He had not asked for her hand because he did not wish to marry her. Their argument had revealed her urgency to be a bride, which had made him repulsed by her. He did not wish to ask her to marry him because his affections were withdrawn from her. Possibly to someone else. In a lapse of judgment, her mind thought perhaps he had created rumors about a French lover because it was true. Then she remembered that he had at once seemed honest toward her.

What was honesty? Was it truth in a particular hour? Could he have confided in her honestly, and changed his mind later? He would still be redeemable. No one could be faulted for a change of heart. One could be condemned for an unmoving, sturdy affection that went quite unrequited. Perhaps when she was old and gray, sitting alone and chaperoning Bellatrix's beautiful children, (providing she was not exiled) they would ask her if she had ever loved. And she would share the brief exchange about a powerful man and a besotted woman, and how in an instance he might have loved the weakest part of her. But she would not disclose the truth to them: love was not enough, it had never been enough, and it had undone the both of them. Powerful men lose their love and endorse a politician. Besotted women stir an empty cauldron and luxuriate over the hour of their death.

"Curious," Her father commented. "Abraxas was quite certain he had assured you."

"How could he be certain, Father?" Narcissa asked.

Cygnus was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "You are aware of Lucius's situation, yes?"

"He has until summer to select a bride," She said, recalling perhaps the only moment he had acknowledged that he had a time limit for marriage. He had disregarded it then, too.

Her father nodded, "Close, but not quite. His engagement needs to be announced at the summer ball that his family hosts."

"Which means he must be engaged at least two months prior to ensure that the engagement will succeed and the family can discuss arrangements in dowry," Narcissa murmured.

"Realistically he has until May," He continued. "Which is why his father felt that he would propose to you. It was Lucius that requested we come to Christmas. Then he asked for you specifically."

Narcissa shook her head, "We're friends, Papa. I don't believe he is inclined to marry me."

"This is not the news I anticipated," He said.

"Father," Narcissa was suddenly keen to alter the subject. "Do you approve of Lucius as a suitor?"

"No," Cygnus said affectionately. "I was quite serious when I said he wasn't good enough for you."

"Then why does this concern you enough to question his motives?" Narcissa asked.

They had circled the lawn twice. She noticed that her father had placed a warming charm on them both, for the snow melted at their footsteps and she noted that she was not uncomfortably cold.

"Abraxas was seeking information, that is all," Cygnus said. "Though I believe that his father finds that you are most suitable."

"Regardless of my birth?" She asked, taken aback.

"I believe so."

Lucius might have turned from her because of his father's adherence toward her. He might sever their alliance because of it. He did seem quick to disregard his father's preference. She recalled Christmas with his family. The anger Lucius had felt could have been for a multitude of reasons. She wished she could keep herself from considering him at nearly every moment, but it was as if the universe itself consistently forced him into her thoughts or conversation. When had this occurred? It was surprising that, suddenly, he had become a part of her world when he had not been for so long.

Her father walked her back into the house and then parted with her. She went upstairs and he adjourned to his study. It surprised her that he did not return to the parlor, but his mood had shifted, and he seemed quite distracted by the information she had given him. Perhaps he cared more about the subject then he let on. It would be very advantageous for him to pursue a contract between himself and the Malfoy line. Their name could be saved if a family so pure would find them acceptable still. Narcissa knew that it was only their name that was upholding them, but it was quickly becoming tarnished and it would, eventually, unravel. Particularly when the only one left to carry on the Black lineage was Regulus.

Bellatrix fell ill over the course of the next three days, and coincidentally, her mother and father caught whatever she had as well. As such, Aunt Walburga escorted them to platform 9 ¾ and Narcissa was saddened that she would not see her father until summer. Narcissa carried her trunks onto the train, and she peered into the compartments to see if there was an available. Most of the students had left school for the holidays, and it was quite crowded by comparison to the small gathering of Slytherins over Halloween.

Bellatrix slipped into a compartment full of Slytherins, though she was still frightfully ill. Narcissa continued down the corridor, presuming there were more in the back. Seemingly, the students filled up from the front, since they could exit first. She had never taken note of the seating arrangements that the others around her engaged in, so she could not be certain of her hypothesis.

She saw Lucius standing at the end of the train as she reached it. One compartment was empty, and wordlessly she reached it and slid the door open. She levitated her trunks and placed them upon the rack above her head. Narcissa was unsure why they were ignoring one another, or why the behavior had suddenly consumed them. She felt that it was the most appropriate action to take, but she yearned for his company still. She recalled how he had fallen asleep on the bench across from her, and she had startled him awake. She had hoped he would kiss her then. Would she still if she knew that it would break them?

Mara Parkinson shoved the door open, letting it snap back. Her eyes were furious and her wand was in her hand. She slammed the door behind her and locked it, and then she put a silencing charm around them. Narcissa watched her uneasily as she sank onto the bench across from her, and pointed her wand and directly in Narcissa's her face.

"We need to talk," She announced.

"Clearly," Narcissa replied, her voice clipped.

Mara narrowed her eyes, insulted by her sarcasm, but Narcissa assumed that she was also surprised by it. She was rather meek, and it was highly unlikely in the sort of circumstance that she would be aggressive. Mara had perhaps been counting on it. She couldn't muster up the concern for her own well-being to be afraid.

"I want to know about you and Candra," Mara demanded.

Narcissa rolled her eyes, and rested easily against the back of the bench. She crossed her arms across her chest. Mara had clearly severed their alliance. Friends did not threaten to curse one another over a situation that could not, and would not, occur. Good riddance.

"Mara," Narcissa began. "Candra likes to jest about my status in society, nothing more. He asked me to marry him to prove a point."

"_What_ point exactly?"

"That I don't have any options."

"But he was right," Mara said quickly, her eyes shifting around the room. "You can't deny him. Your engagement may still be upheld, he could renounce ours if he wished, if _you_ consented to wed him—"

"He asked you first," She insisted. "His parents announced the engagement to our community, there's no chance of—"

"But I'm the youngest daughter, and your name holds more value than a Parkinson," Mara said. "Not that it _should_."

Narcissa wished she had the wit of her sisters. She knew what they would say, but when she thought of what she would say, there were no words available to her.

Deciding against being cruel, she chose another course, "Your engagement is sound, Mara, and you know that."

As if noticing that she had shown some kind of weakness, Mara stood up. She dispelled the charms around them and wrenched open the door. Narcissa watched her small figure as she marched down the corridor. A Hufflepuff first year made the mistake of being near her, and she cursed him. He froze stiffly and fell, terrified, onto the carpet. She watched for fifteen minutes or so until a Prefect finally came round and let him free.

It occurred to her that Mara had been right. Narcissa shouldn't have been placed at a higher standard than her. She was much more capable with magic and society. She had managed to reach an alliance with Bellatrix temporarily, something that Narcissa couldn't do even as her sister. She was thirteen and she had secured a husband before she officially entered society as a bachelorette. How could Narcissa even claim to be better than her? Mara Parkinson was entirely more efficient.

The sun resigned in the evening, and the lights in the train became dominate. Around this time, Narcissa pulled the blinds down and changed into her school uniform, presuming they would be at _Hogwarts_ in a few hours. As she opened them up, she saw Lucius walking toward her end of the train again. He was checking each compartment briefly. She was surprised to see that he was actually doing Prefect duties, as he never patrolled nor reprimanded others. In fact, he hadn't even told her that he was one.

He knocked on the door as he opened it when he arrived. He held out a box of _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans_ and when she accepted, he took a seat across from her.

"A token of my affection," Lucius said, gesturing toward the sweets.

Her first choice was mothball flavored.

She quickly swallowed the candy, and replied irritably, "That tasted the way my aunt's manor smells."

Lucius laughed. "Then I suppose they are not representations of my feelings."

"Seems fairly accurate," Narcissa argued, as the next tasted like a very sour wine.

"Your father called upon mine as I was leaving," Lucius said, changing the subject. He avoided her gaze, and instead watched his fingers as he ran them across the woven fabric on his seat.

Narcissa was cautious when she ate the next bean, but it was a sweet, mild flavor she couldn't quite place.

"Why?" She asked.

"I thought perhaps you would know," Lucius answered, seeming genuinely surprised that she didn't.

She supposed that telling the truth would be her best route to coaxing real answers from him.

"He told me that your father was asking questions," Narcissa said. "My father asked me if I knew anything."

"What sort of questions?"

Narcissa was sure to anger him. She did not want to, but she was curious herself. Why keep from being engaged? It was absurd, but she thought perhaps that the easiest answer would be for him to consider her, if none else were applicable. Although, she could have been easily sorted into the category of women he did not desire.

"Your father wanted to know if you had asked for my hand," Narcissa said finally.

Lucius seemed undisturbed by this information. "And you said?"

"The truth," She said, shrugging. "I told him no."

"I see."

"That was all the information he seemed to seek," Narcissa said. "So my father was perhaps telling him that. It seems like something he could have written to him about, though."

"I was thinking precisely the same thing," Lucius crossed one leg over the other. She noted that he was acting quite different than usual.

He did not meet her gaze as he often did and his typically still, calm manner was altered. He fidgeted in his seat more, crossing and then uncrossing his leg from the other, shifting to other sides of the bench.

"Lucius, I'm not keeping you if you want to leave," Narcissa suggested.

He stood up at this, but he did not take his leave. Instead, he pulled the blinds down over the doors, and secured what appeared to be a more complex locking charm. She became frightened at this. Her mother had warned her that, gentleman as he seemed to be, it wasn't necessarily so that he was _always_ one.

"Do you know anything else?" Lucius asked, sinking back across the bench.

With a flick of his wand, his trunks appeared neatly stacked next to hers. He folded his hands across his abdomen and reclined back into his seat. Narcissa nearly laughed. Had he provided all of the security because he wished to relax? Their society had made everyone foolish.

"No," She said. "Only that you don't _really _have until the summer to choose a wife."

"I have until July," Lucius told her lazily, clearly wishing to divert the subject.

Narcissa wouldn't waver, "No, you don't. The latest you can propose is May. Lucius, you _know_ that."

"I didn't," He said, raising his eyebrows. "Thank you for informing me."

"You can't just run away from this," She said softly. "I know that you're trying, Lucius, and I understand…"

"Tell me," Lucius leaned forward, one hand extended onto her knee. "If you were given the option to marry today, would you?"

"No," Narcissa said darkly. "It's too _late _to marry."

A smile formed upon his face and he began to laugh. She hadn't noticed that the game they often played had suddenly turned serious. Their laughter petered in a few moments. The silence wasn't awkward.

Lucius excused himself, but he came back later with more sweets and pumpkin juice. Their conversation was light. He told jokes that he had never told before, which struck her, and he smiled more than he had in her presence, though she wasn't sure why. She felt slightly sick and drunk on him, as if the vast amount of time she had been spending with him had overloaded her system. Could one love another too much? Was this what she was experiencing? She could not say.

"Your sister is marrying in June," Lucius commented after a few moments.

"Yes."

"When do you intend to marry?" He asked her.

Narcissa was confused. If marriage were not one of his prospective ventures, why did he insist upon bringing up the subject? Perhaps because Bellatrix's wedding was on the rise. If he loved her, then he might have been broken by it. She wished she could effectively question him about his feelings, but he would refuse. Surely if someone asked her about her love interest, she would be disinclined to speak on the subject as well.

"Never," She said at last, because it seemed most accurate.

"Why?" He persisted, tilting his head in surprise.

"No one will marry me," She said, shrugging. "That is to say, no one would accept such a burden. To marry _poor_, sad Narcissa Black. I'm better off alone anyway."

Lucius seemed bemused by this turn in conversation. "You're better off alone?"

"Sure," She replied. "I can live comfortably in St. Mungo's. I hear their tea is up to standard."

"Hardly," He said, laughing. Then he sobered. "I'm sure someone will ask you. Maybe not the first year you enter society, but perhaps the next."

"Doubtful," Narcissa said, frowning. "Mother says I've spoiled my reputation."

"You've done nothing scandalous."

"I was under the impression that I had no reputation to ruin," Narcissa scoffed.

Lucius reached over, patted her knee, and then relaxed against his seat. "Well, then, perhaps we can share neighboring rooms."

"Why is that?"

"Because I am too old to marry," Lucius said wistfully. "And too young to understand the necessity of it. You see the predicament I've put myself in."

"Seems easy to disentangle yourself from," She commented. "Perhaps you should spend an applicable amount of time socializing rather than sneaking around. You might find a suitable bride."

"Heed your own advance, Miss Black," He told her slyly.

"Call me Narcissa," She commanded. "Really, this 'Miss Black' is nonsense. We've been friends since last summer. Our friendship will span a year soon. Do you feel comfortable around me?"

She wondered if he ever had thought her name before or even used her name when discussing her with his family. Did he see her as Narcissa, or Miss Black? Suddenly it seemed paramount.

"Narcissa," Lucius responded, relieving her of her troubles.

"Thank you," She said.

The train squelched to a stop. She and Lucius stood up. He pulled her trunks down from the rack, and turned to place them on the bench she had been seated at. He half-turned to pull one of his smaller trunks from the rack. She was standing in the small aisle in front of him; the same distance apart that she had been the first time he had taken a seat across from her on the train. Without thinking, she pulled him by the front of his robes and kissed him. She heard a loud crash as he dropped one of his trunks and reached for her, pulling her in closely.

She couldn't believe what she had just done. It had taken her by surprise, her sudden brashness. He would think her a fool. His hands cupped both sides of her face and he kissed her until she was breathless, and when they broke apart, the both of them were lightly panting. His expression was uneven and difficult for her to discern.

"Forgive me," Narcissa said quickly. "I don't know…"

He wrapped one arm around her mid-back and kissed her again. The kiss was short, for he must have realized that they were late. Prefects were checking the compartments for lingering or sleeping people. Quickly, he pulled the blinds up and dispersed his locking spell. She arranged her trunks, and then pulled it behind her.

She avoided the Prefect that was patrolling the train, realizing she was the same that had spoken rudely about Lucius in her Herbology class. Undoubtedly she was the source of complaints as well. Narcissa quickly stepped off of the train and walked with Lucius. The last students were climbing into carriages, and quickly they stowed their trunks in the last one, and then slipped in.

They were sharing the carriage with a Gryffindor whom had already fallen asleep. Lucius placed their trunks next to him and then he sat next to her. Her actions had somehow changed the dynamics of their relationship. Though he sat next to her, they both were sure to keep distance from another, lest the student across them roused.

Narcissa left her trunks in the entrance hall and followed the other students into the Great Hall. The room was brilliantly lit and bursting with enthusiasm. The sky overhead was darkened and cloudy, and snow fell gingerly. She felt weightless and dreamy, though she could not explain why she was so exuberant. Lucius took her hand as they went through the door.

She hesitated before she sat next to him at the end of the table. Bellatrix was frozen with her fork in one hand, and her knife in her other tightly clenched fist. The Slytherin table had gone mostly quiet, though the sound of conversation from the other tables was deafening. Her sister remained in her state for five whole minutes.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, though it wasn't apparent to whom.

"I believe this form is called 'sitting', you might have heard of it," Lucius replied kindly.

Her eyes settled on Narcissa. Her gaze was harsh, but she also appeared startled. She assumed her eldest sister was more disturbed by the change in seating than the sudden threat of her sister surpassing her popularity. The idea was mad anyway. Bellatrix was supreme.

"My sister isn't allowed to sit here," She announced.

Lucius accepted a plate of potatoes from Rodolphus, who averted his attention from the matter entirely, perhaps to keep from being forced into an argument he was far too inept to commit to. It would be foolish of him not to agree with Lucius, considering his social status and the burdens that could be placed upon him financially and socially if he did not. However, forging a path against Bellatrix when one intended to spend the rest of one's life with her was a grave mistake to make indeed. Narcissa decided then that his ambiguity was becoming of him.

"Why not? Your fiancé is more than welcome," Lucius commented.

Rodolphus paled as he was mentioned.

Bellatrix's jaw was set. "He's my _fiancé_. So unless you would like to admit that you've proposed to my little sister, she doesn't get to sit here."

"Actually, I was referring to the fact that the Lestrange name doesn't have the strength that our names do," He said. "I see no qualification for fiancés. Pearl is not engaged to either of us, yet here she sits, and while Candra is betrothed, he also is not available to any of us."

Candra Zabini was conveniently absent from the table, Narcissa noticed, though Mara was seated in the place that he would normally have taken.

"He is associated with me, and therefore worthy," She affirmed.

"And your sister's name carries the same," Lucius said.

"She's the youngest," She said. "So no, her name is _not_ the same as mine."

They were both angered with one another, it was clear. Bellatrix's back was bristled, her fist settled on the table, ready to assault him. Lucius was cold, his eyes narrowed.

"I am quite certain that her association with my name qualifies her just the same as yours does for your betrothed."

Bellatrix vehemently shook her head. "We have exhausted this argument every day since school began, Lucius. She _cannot_ sit here."

"I've decided," Lucius said.

"Unless you ask for her hand, Lucius, her association with you is meaningless in concerns to this table," Bellatrix announced. "You _know_ that."

It was then that Narcissa realized what was occurring. Her sister wasn't arguing against her out of hatred. She was, instead, insisting that if he wished to announce a relationship with her, then it must be one of sincerity. However, she feared that it would soon backfire.

Indeed it did. Their argument spanned the entire evening at dinner, including hushed whispering as Dumbledore welcomed them back, and then they continued for several hours in the common room. Narcissa retired early for the evening, her temples throbbing because of the both of them.

Morning came sooner than she would have wished. She was the first to wake, and so she parted her bed hangings and smoothed her hair with her brush while she watched the water swirl against the window. Once she had thought she saw a mermaid brush against the glass, but she couldn't have been sure. There was something very peaceful about the early morning. The even breathing from the girls and their silence was comforting. Perhaps because their judging eyes and offhanded remarks could not offend her while they slumbered.

She dressed in her uniform, carefully securing her scarf and gloves in place and then buttoning a cloak at her throat. Quietly, she opened her drawer and found the letter that Lucius had given her. She tried to tear open the envelope, but it was secured. Feeling curious, she lit a small flame at the tip of her wand and tilted the parchment above her to view the contents inside. There was nothing. She kissed the envelope next, supposing it desired another avenue to open. With a sigh, she returned it to the drawer and selected the books she would need for her classes from her trunk. She stowed them into her bag.

There was a soft knock at the door, and she quietly crept across the room to answer it. Before she could, someone slid a piece of parchment beneath the door. She heard footsteps on the stairs. She picked up the letter, and carefully read the contents. It wasn't labeled, though someone was gossiping about Abraham Nott possibly marrying Pearl Parkinson. Bother. No one could keep to themselves. She placed the note on the table that was tucked in the corner of the room and then she went downstairs.

The common room was inhabited by a few sleepy-eyed students. The boys that habitually played Wizard's chess were alert and actively playing. A few others were watching them absently. Candra Zabini was draped across a chair. His mouth was slackened, and he was snoring lightly.

As she sat at a table by the stairs, the door opened and Lucius breezed through it. He brought with him a gust of cold air that visibly disturbed everyone in the room. The fire was blazing, and the room was almost unbearably warm in the winter attire she had adorned.

His eyes scanned the room until they rested on her, and then she watched him approach.

"Good morning, Miss Black," He greeted, taking a seat across from her.

"_Narcissa_," She corrected.

His smile was innocent, but she knew he had done it purposefully.

"Old habits," He explained.

"You must have woken up quite early," She commented.

"I could not sleep," Lucius said. "So I thought I would write a few letters."

She wondered what had made his slumber uneasy. Had he been legitimately angered at Bellatrix and her rules, or was he beginning to understand the seriousness of his situation?

"Shall we go for breakfast?" He asked her. "I know you usually don't wake up until late, but since you are ready for the day…"

She nodded, although she was entirely taken aback that he had observed her behavior enough to know that she almost always woke up late. She hadn't thought that she was so noticeable. No one ever paid her any mind. Her professors said nothing of her classwork, her peers ignored her entirely. Yet somehow she had managed to capture his attention. How odd.

They held hands through the corridor and into the Great Hall. It was then that she noted he had at least wanted this moment to occur, as he took a seat in the middle of the table. They were the only Slytherins in the room, although most of the Ravenclaw table was filled, and some were at the Gryffindor table.

It was then, as she was taking her usual seat and tucking her bag beneath her feet, that she saw her. Andromeda sat directly across from her on the opposite side of her table. As Narcissa looked at her, her sister quickly turned her face to another Ravenclaw, and engaged in the conversation that they were having. Narcissa's hands began to tremble so that she spilled milk across the table. She had come back. Her face was thinner and gaunt. There were deep circles beneath her eyes. She had even cut her hair. It was now shoulder length and she had straightened it so smoothly that the waves she once had seemed absent entirely.

Narcissa was relieved that Lucius was a quiet partner, for he idly watched the weather on the ceiling while she fell to pieces at the table. She could not eat, but she could not allow herself to sob the way that she wished to.

She received her class schedule just before the mail came in. Lucius was greeted with eighteen letters. She watched him flip through them. She counted eight of them from his father, several from his mother, and the others were potential brides which he discarded.

Bellatrix arrived just before breakfast was cleared. She stopped suddenly as she viewed the shift in the table. Lucius's movement had caused the end of the table to move to the middle. Candra and Mara were seated two seats from being across from them, having clearly left the space open for Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Pearl Parkinson and Abraham Nott were on the other side of the empty placement, both of whom looking slightly disheveled by the change.

"_No_!" Bellatrix exclaimed, stomping around the table.

Lucius looked up from one of the letters his father had written him. Bellatrix's hands were poised at her hips, and her lips were set in a defiant line.

"This is _not_ happening, Lucius."

"I beg your pardon?" He asked innocently, glancing up and down the table, searching for an apparent commotion.

"Just because you changed the seating arrangement does not mean that Cissy can sit here."

"I hardly think that I have done anything to ail you," Lucius said. "I merely sat down."

Bellatrix heaved a sigh and dropped her bag to the floor. She kicked it beneath the table and then sat down. Her anger was clear, but Narcissa could not bring herself to care. She waited until breakfast had disappeared off of the table, and then she gathered her things. Lucius rolled up the parchment he had and tucked the letter into his bag, and then he followed her out of the hall. He had clearly made some sort of impression upon the Slytherins, for no one at the table had spoken.

"I have a free period," Lucius announced, as he plucked her schedule from her hands to observe it. "You have Herbology at the same time as me."

She turned and walked up the staircase. She had Charms first.

"It's a shame I'm not a seventh year," Narcissa said.

Lucius passed her schedule back to her and consulted his own to assure himself that he was correct. They reached the third floor. A few Gryffindors were mingling at the door, but no one in her house had arrived. She stopped far from the classroom door, hoping that she would not be bothered by the other house. Lucius leaned against the wall casually.

She noticed that he wasn't wearing a prefect's badge. She wondered what sort of disagreement he had with responsibility. His family had been prefects for generations. His grandfather and father had been Head Boy. It occurred to her that he had been attempting to demolish his family tradition in small ways the entire time she had known him. It was possible that he never wished their society upon himself, but she couldn't imagine him otherwise.

They departed once her professor arrived. She watched him walk down the corridor until he disappeared from her view, and then she went into the classroom.

Everyone in the class was paired with another person from the opposite house. To her horror, her name was called with Lily Evans. She recalled the last time that she had seen her, and she felt embarrassed to have been a witness to the event.

Narcissa collected her bag, and moved across the room to the table where Lily Evans was occupying.

"Hi," She said shyly, as she took a seat next to her.

"Hello," Lily Evans greeted, a wide smile spreading across her face.

To her dismay, it seemed as though she was more beautiful than Narcissa had previously thought. Her hair had grown longer, falling in soft waves at her back, bursting with a shade that reminded her of autumn. Her hair was partially pulled back in with clips, and her eyes were a friendly, brilliant green.

Feeling awkward, Narcissa turned her knees toward the front of the classroom, and folded her hands in her lap. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lily Evans tilt her head curiously at her, but she said nothing. As Narcissa opened her book to find the appropriate chapter, she noticed that her partner did too.

Teacups were placed upon their desks, and they were given the time period to produce legs beneath the cup.

"You're Sirius's cousin, aren't you?" Lily asked conversationally.

Her brow was furrowed as she was reading through the instructions. Narcissa practiced changing the color of her teacup before she even attempted to make it have legs.

"Yes," She replied, clipped. "Or at least was."

"I heard that he….he left," She commented. "It must be hard for you."

A misfired spell set Narcissa's teacup on fire, and she watched it burn vibrantly purple until the professor quickly dissolved the flame and restored her cup.

"Not really," Narcissa said. "We weren't close."

"I've heard…about your lot," Lily Evans said. "Granted, it's from Sirius, so perhaps it's a little biased—"

"What would _you_ know about _my_ lot?" Narcissa asked, her eyes narrowing.

Lily bit her lip. "I know what you have to do. That you have to find a husband and stuff…the whole thing sounds really awful. I'm sorry."

Narcissa furious flourished her wand, and to her surprise, her teacup sprouted legs and began sprinting across the table. Its freedom was short lived as it toppled over the edge of the desk and crashed in pieces onto the floor.

"Wow!" Lily Evans breathed.

"Very good, Narcissa!" The professor congratulated. "You're the first in the class."

The entire classroom turned to stare in surprise, as Narcissa had never completed anything first. The looks from the Gryffindors suggested they didn't believe that she had actually done it, that perhaps Lily had.

The professor came round her desk with another box on teacups. "You may continue practicing, if you wish, but you've received your grade and bonus for today."

"Can I go to the Hospital Wing?" Narcissa asked suddenly. "I don't feel well."

"Oh…well…yes, go along then."

Narcissa pulled the straps of her bag across her shoulder, and she fled the room, head down in embarrassment. She went immediately down the stairs. The corridor was empty. She could hear a mixture of lectures and exploding wands from behind the classroom doors, yet her footsteps still reverberated along the walls.

She pushed the bathroom door open with the flat of her palm, and she hid herself in a stall. Quickly, she dropped her bag to the floor, and leaned against the stall wall. She wept furiously, large droplets of tears pouring from her eyes and rolling fat down her cheeks. Everyone thought that her life was pathetic. _Poor_, sad little Cissy. No one thought she was anything more than a bride. Or a spinster. A Mudblood had felt so sorry for her condition that she had actually extended kindness to her. How pathetic. She wondered where Moaning Myrtle was. She loved misery. It seemed appropriate that even she would find Narcissa as something to mock.

Narcissa skipped her next class, and stayed in the stall until it was time for lunch. She opened the stall as she knew that students were being dismissed and then she went to the sink. She turned on the faucet, and cooled her face with cold water. Her face was red and blotchy and her hair was unkempt. She sighed heavily. She couldn't go to lunch looking the way she did. She would be made fun of more than ever.

The door opened, and Andromeda breezed through. She stopped when she saw her, and her face set in a firm, neutral line. She slowly walked to one of the sinks, and began to wash her hands.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked, as she dried her hands and pulled a band out of her pocket to secure her hair.

"I miss you," Narcissa said suddenly. "I didn't know that I would, but I do, I really…"

"You had your chance," Andromeda interjected coldly, and she turned from her.

She followed her out into the hall, but her sister was already gone. Heaving a sigh, she collected her bag and walked down the stairs toward the Great Hall. As she reached the entrance hall, she saw Lucius standing by himself, arms linked behind his back. When he noticed her, he gave her a warm smile that lasted only until he saw her meek expression.

"Bad day?" He asked her, meeting her at the end of the staircase.

She nodded, having no desire to tell him why. He enveloped her in a hug without questioning. After a few minutes, he led her into the Great Hall.


	10. Chapter 10

_Look upward where the white gull screams,__  
__What does it see that we do not see?__  
__Is that a star? or the lamp that gleams__  
__On some outward voyaging argosy, -__  
__Ah! can it be__  
__We have lived our lives in a land of dreams!__  
__How sad it seems._

_Her Voice_ by Oscar Wilde

Narcissa's marks had increased significantly. She presumed that had mostly come as a result of Bellatrix and Lucius's persistent arguments that were now habitually held every evening. As a result, she had taken to hiding in her dorm room and studying for long periods of time to elude them and their incessant banter. The result made her a better witch, but tired just the same.

Spring bloomed seemingly overnight. It was timidly cool, but the sunshine was warm on her back as she trudged from her History of Magic class to Herbology. She had folded her winter cloak into her trunk, and instead adorned a lighter cloak for warmth. Her morning had, for once, gone well. Bellatrix had woken up too late for breakfast, and the morning had been fluid and smooth.

There were still bits of ice from the morning frost that were melting, causing the ground to be muddy. She nearly slipped as she walked down the slope, but managed to sturdy herself. The hems of her robes were coated in thick and heavy mud. She rounded the corner to her appropriate greenhouse. A little ahead of her, she saw Regulus and Lucius walking with one another into their respective place. She wondered how two classes occurred at once, but Lucius had told her that they had been instructed at the beginning that a substitute teacher watched over them as they completed the necessary work for their N.E.W.T's. According to him, few seventh years were involved in Herbology.

She took her seat toward the back of the classroom with her Ravenclaw companions, whom had steadily begun to look worse as O.W.L.'s loomed nearer. Her professors had been increasing the workload steadily, becoming ever more severe in grading. She supposed something positive had come from Bellatrix and Lucius arguing so heatedly. Perhaps she could feel confident that she would not completely fail.

"I'll be so glad when this is over," One of the Ravenclaw girls complained, as she unrolled her parchment. She had made so many adjustments to it that it was frayed and mostly scribbled over.

Her own essay was neatly recorded. She had taken to rewriting her essays so that they were fresh, though she was running out of parchment because of it. She placed hers into the collected pile at the edge of her desk as Professor Sprout shuffled into the room and quickly swept around the room for their essays. Afterward, she began to pass out the previous week's homework.

"Very nice work, Narcissa," She complimented, as she handed her the neatly written essay with a large "O" scrawled across the top.

"Thank you," She mumbled, though she was triumphantly smiling and blushing.

After class, she went for a walk around the lake rather than going inside for lunch. She decided to seat herself on the large boulders that she and Lucius had sat upon the first evening of school, and she unbuttoned her cloak, and folded it under her arm. The wind had slowed so that the water was softly lapping against the lakeshore. It occurred to her that she had almost survived another year, and it took her by surprise.

"Haven't you become a difficult woman to track down," A voice called.

She turned her head, starting at the presence of another person. Lucius stood near the boulders, two flasks in one hand, and a bag in the other. When she smiled, he stepped up and sat next to her. He passed her a flask, which upon examination she found was filled with slushed pumpkin juice, and then he handed her the bag. She saw that it had two sandwich halves inside.

"Thank you," She said.

"How was Herbology?" Lucius asked her, propping himself up at the elbows.

"It was fine," Narcissa remarked, and then because she couldn't help herself, "I received an 'O' on my last essay."

Lucius smiled. "That exceeds most of the grades collectively than the rest of the House."

"You flatter me," She replied, taking a drink from her flask.

She collected her things after she finished the lunch that he had brought, and he collected her flask from her and walked with her up to the castle. He chatted with her about his experience with his O.W.L exams, mentioning some of the material that he had been tested on. She felt nervous to even think about them, but she felt more knowledgeable and prepared now than she ever had.

"A Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow," Lucius mentioned, as they passed through the double oak doors.

The Entrance Hall was busy. He had Ancient Runes and she had Potions, though she wasn't sure where the class was being held today. Slughorn had apparently been reprimanded for his activities, for now he posted the locations a week ahead of time on his office doors. She had never gone by, since Regulus typically did and then posted a notice in the common room, but he had caught Bellatrix's illness, and he was spending his evenings in bed.

"That's good," Narcissa said, slightly distracted by the bustling around them. "I need parchment."

Lucius adjusted the strap on his bag. "We could go."

"We both have our permission slips, so yes," Narcissa replied.

"No," Lucius laughed. "I meant we could go together. If you wanted."

Narcissa realized what he was asking, and she stopped herself before she could stammer through a reply. She calmed herself before she spoke:

"Um, yes. That would be brilliant," She said. "What time?"

Lucius noticed the room was starting to empty. "We'll chat later, Miss Black."

He swept by her and started up the stairs. She folded her arms across her chest and called after him, "It's _Narcissa_!"

His laughter echoed to her, and he gestured a wave to her from the top of the stairs, then disappeared around the corner. Narcissa hurried downstairs to Slughorn's office, and found that there were several Slytherins that had also come to look for it. Luckily, he had scheduled today's class in the dungeons, and so she hurried down the corridor. She just slipped into the classroom as he began to take attendance.

Phoebe Greengrass was sporting a rather large black eye and she flinched when one of the Hufflepuff's across the room flourished his wand at his cauldron to clean the mess he had apparently forgotten in it. The Zabini in her year approached the table with a smirk on his face. He watched Phoebe for a long moment, and then slammed his bag down upon the table so hard that she shrieked.

"What the hell happened to you?" He guffawed.

"Shut it, Tobias," Phoebe snapped.

Narcissa had looked over the potion material in her textbook the evening before, and so she started before either of the two sitting at her table. She hoped that perhaps she would be allowed to brew a Draught of Peace before her O.W.L.'s so that she would be calm.

She collected the powdered moonstone and hellebore that was part of the required ingredients from Slughorn's storage in the classroom, and flipped her book to the correct place. Tobias spent the class period tormenting Phoebe, who was crying so much that she accidentally used asphodel instead of hellebore, and her cauldron burst. The incident ruined nearly everyone's potion, and Slughorn took twenty minutes from Slytherin.

Angrily, Narcissa incinerated her cauldron. Phoebe's concoction had chemically eaten through hers and it was useless. She replaced her splotched textbook in her bag, and left the classroom behind a group of Hufflepuffs. She had run out of parchment, so she would have to wait to order new materials. As she headed toward the common room to change out of her robes, she wondered idly if she still had money left over from her birthday to purchase a new cauldron as well.

She threw away her robes, finding that they were not fit to wear after the potion explosion and the mud. She pulled the extra set from her trunk and changed into them. It occurred to her then that Lucius had asked her to Hogsmeade with him. She examined herself in the mirror, checking to see if her figure had decided to flesh out in any kind of fashion. It hadn't, but something caught her eye.

She whirled around. Her beside drawer was open, and as she neared it, she noticed that the seal across the letter from Lucius was broken. Ecstatically, she picked it up and opened it. It freed itself without hesitation, and she nervously opened it. Her hands were trembling as she read:

_Miss Black, _

_I hope that you can forgive me for the prank that I've pulled. It is, after all, your birthday, and you deserve more than this. My wish is that you succeeded in opening this letter upon the very same day that I've given it to you, but I suspect that it won't be the case. I will hope that this letter is still relevant, that you have not realized the truth in front of you before it is too late. I request urgency in this letter, but that is an act done in vain, because of course, if you knew the contents of this message, you would not need to know. My hope is that, in my cowardice, it is neither too late nor too soon. To make up for the grievances that I may have caused you, I ask that, if I am not dead or married, please return this to me. I will explain to you my actions, and I will tell you the truth. There is much to tell you, I only hope that it is not a decision that I will regret._

_Your friend or possibly your bitter enemy,_

_ Lucius Malfoy_

Narcissa spent most of the evening attempting to understand what he had written. When she finally gave up, she tucked it in her robes and left the common room for her Astronomy class. She stared through her telescope, attempting to map out what was required, but she was so distracted that she did quite poorly, and swapped several planets for stars.

Around midnight, she returned to her common room. Regulus was by the fire, coughing into his elbow.

"Cousin," Narcissa called, dropping her bag into one of the chairs. "Has Lucius gone to sleep?"

"…No," He replied slowly, as if he were reluctant to give her information. "He's not been inside yet."

She whirled around and exited the common room. Regulus called after her, something about detention, but she ignored him. Narcissa hurried up the stairs to the Owlery first, as sneakily as she could. She dodged Prefects and Mrs. Norris. The Owlery was empty, and so with a sigh, she turned and descended from the tower to the entrance hall. She slipped out of the double oak doors as quietly as she could, and then she sprinted down the lawns.

There were no lights on in the seventh year greenhouse. Her shoulders slumped; she was disappointed that she had not found him in either of his usual hauntings. She thought perhaps Regulus had lied to her, but it hadn't seemed so then. Perhaps she had just barely escaped him, and he had gone elsewhere. She did hate this. Her curiosity was intensely wound around her, and she desired nothing more than whatever truth he had to reveal to her.

She stalked across the lake and even looked in the Quidditch Pitch, but it was clear that he wasn't outside. She didn't want to go into the Forbidden Forest, and so she wound around to the courtyard and went back inside.

The last place she searched was the dungeons, supposing he could have been patrolling, but three a.m. rolled about, and she realized that no one would have been out so late. She retired to the common room. Regulus decided to kip for the night on the divan, a thin blanket across him. She collected her belongings, and went upstairs.

Phoebe Greengrass woke her in the morning by shaking her violently. Narcissa's eyes fluttered open slowly and groggily. It appeared that the swelling had gone down in Phoebe's eye, though it was still blotchy and purple.

"What happened to your eye?" Narcissa asked, in a nicer tone than Tobias had used, as she sat up in her bed.

"Scarlet happened," She said, huffing.

She withdrew from her side and continued dressing herself. She stood in front of the mirror, weaving pieces of cloth through her hair into a braid that went down her back. Narcissa yawned and she dressed lazily, until she remembered her schedule for the day. Then she hurriedly adjusted her robes and pulled out the loose braid she had done, and quickly pulled her hair back with hair combs. She wore the band that her father had given on her right index finger, and then looped her pearl necklace through her hair like a headband for extra decoration. She spritzed some of her perfume. Just before she reached the door, she remembered his letter, and she collected it.

He was seated by the fire, casually leafing through a book that someone had left on the table. Regulus was snoring on the divan. It appeared that no one had bothered to wake him, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be the one that did.

"Good morning," She greeted, as she stood in front of him.

"Hello," He responded, standing up. "Shall we?"

She walked with him silently from the dungeons and into the entrance hall. She had anticipated that he would have breakfast in the Great Hall, but instead he turned out of the doors. There was quite a line of students outside. Most of them were Gryffindors with tussled hair and sleepy eyes, but there were a few Hufflepuffs as well. She supposed they wouldn't see the Ravenclaw members until their O.W.L exams.

They took their place behind Candra Zabini and Mara Parkinson. His arm was draped lavishly across her small shoulders. It occurred to Narcissa then that their age difference was wildly apparent. His form was hulking near her petite frame. While the Slytherins understood their relationship, she had heard that others outside of their circle were disturbed by it.

"_Well_," Candra Zabini drawled, as he turned to speak to Mara, and noticed Narcissa instead.

Narcissa sighed. "What is it this time?"

"Nothing," He said, smiling brightly. "I just won a bet, that's all."

She said nothing, which only seemed to excite him further.

"Maybe it wasn't a _bet_," Candra continued. "Maybe it was more like a _prophecy_."

"I believe those two things are not entirely the same," Lucius snapped.

Candra leered at her, enchanted by his own amusing conversation. "Remember that time on the platform, Narcissa? After Halloween?"

"Are you referring to the only time we've spoken that you were even remotely tolerable?" She asked him, and then added hastily, "At least for the first five seconds."

"That's the one," He responded. "Do you remember what you told me?"

"Merlin's beard, Candra, let's just _go_," Mara tugged on his arm roughly.

He silenced her with a rude hand gesture, though she was quieted only because she reached forward and jammed his fingers back. He didn't seem to notice, or perhaps he found a kind of pleasure in it.

"I said, little Cissy," Candra began, eyes gleaming. "That you needn't worry about finding a husband – that you were Lucius's girl – remember now? How right am I, dearest? Did you reject me because you had already made a secret arrangement?"

Before Narcissa could respond, Lucius interrupted. "What precisely is your issue with her and me, Zabini?"

"Don't you know, Malfoy?" Candra asked, reaching up and folding his open palm against his chest. "Narcissa and I were passionate lovers over the summer."

He howled peals of laughter. It spewed from his throat like vomit and scattered across the courtyard. Suddenly, he seized the only opportunity he would ever find available, and he grasped Narcissa by both shoulders and struck her lips with his own. Before either of them could react, he released her, took Mara by the hand, and shoved his way through the line of people.

"Is that true?" Lucius asked her, after they could no longer hear the shrill of his cackling.

He turned to her, his expression quite serious. His lips were set in a firm line, and when he looked upon her, there was distinguishable contempt in his eyes. Whether it was for her or Candra, she could not be sure.

"You know it isn't," Narcissa replied brusquely.

"He kissed you, yet you hardly withdrew yourself from him," He pointed out.

Narcissa gasped in shock. "What exactly did you think I was capable of doing?"

"Perhaps I assumed that you would not enjoy it so thoroughly," Lucius replied coldly.

"Have you gone as mad as he has?" She asked incredulously. "At what point in my relationship to him would you have believed I hold even the slightest affection for him?"

The crowd had turned to watch the argument, and he noticed the attention, so he refused to answer her. Narcissa stared, awestruck by his sudden outburst so much that she could scarcely bring herself to give Filch her name when he checked her off of his list. She folded her arms across her chest and stomped down the street. He followed her silently, though she could tell by his expression that he was still quite furious, but she felt that his anger wasn't nearly as deserving as her own. They walked past the _Hog's Head_, and found a quiet area away from the meddling students that had watched them all the way into the pub. Once they stopped, Narcissa rounded on him.

"_Why_ would you think that I desired him?" She asked. "Of all people, why him?"

Lucius seemed to have lost his patience, as he burst out, "You haven't been around, you know. You've been missing from the common room in the evenings and you haven't attended lunch."

"Because you've been having nightly rows with my sister!" She cried.

"For your sake, Narcissa!"

"Is it for my sake, or for hers?" She asked, finally summoning up the courage to ask what she had wanted – no, _needed -_ to know all along.

He glanced around to see if anyone had been curious enough to listen in upon their argument. It was too early for the village to be busy, and they had been left alone thus far.

"What are you talking about?" Lucius asked.

"Do you love my sister?" She amended, and when he quickly averted her gaze, her temper flared. "_Answer_ me."

"You are not telling me what to do," He threatened, suddenly meeting her eyes again.

"Tell me the truth."

The wind whirled about them, and she suddenly realized that the early morning chilled her. It was cloudy, and no sun peaked through thin, wispy layers. The village was muddy, each of the thatched cottages were empty.

"Do you love him?" Lucius asked instead. "Is this what you're using to justify your relationship?"

Narcissa glared at him. "What relationship? I have neither with you or him."

"Yet I cannot find it in myself to believe you."

"Why would you care if I were fancying someone else?" She asked furiously. "You said so in your letter that this was a prank you've pulled, that you've something to explain. This is it. I want to know now, whether you love my sister or not, so that I can let go."

"My letter?" He asked. "You've read it?"

"Yes," She clipped.

"Candra Zabini isn't courting you?" He asked.

"_Mara Parkinson_ is betrothed to him, you dolt," She snarled. "Did you suddenly wake up this stupid, or was this a cleverly disguised secret you've had all along?"

She pushed passed him, but he spun her by the elbow and held his grasp upon her.

"What do you _want_, Lucius?" She asked him resolutely.

"I beg your pardon?"

She sighed heavily. "If you love my sister so, I am not your liaison to her. She loves someone else; you'll just have to stop."

"I don't love her," Lucius said slowly.

"Then why go through all of this trouble?" She questioned.

She shook his hand from her arm. He seemed to trust her enough not to walk away from him now, though she wished to. Suddenly sleeping in seemed more ideal than an argument in a desolate village. It seemed that each time she supposed something extraordinary between them would occur; they ended up in a row. Except this time, she would not feel so embarrassed. The quietness was a blessing. She wished now, more than ever, to be alone. The silence that had been surrounding her as she studied by herself had brought her peace. Loneliness was not torturous, but also sometimes healing, if she would let it.

"I love you," He stated.

She slapped him across the right side of his face so hard that her palm was left red and stinging, and an immediate flush began in the shape of her hand. When she realized what she had done, she shrank back from him suddenly. It was as if the breath had escaped her lungs, and she feared the worst. However, his expression was calm, and he did not raise his hand in response.

"This isn't exactly the way I had intended to tell you," He admitted.

"I should think not."

"Nevertheless, the statement is true," Lucius said, shrugging.

Narcissa straightened and slowly tried to regain her composure. "Why feel this way if you never intend to marry?"

"It's not as if I could help it," He retorted.

"But you could have," She said. "Love doesn't just happen."

Lucius was quiet for a moment before he responded, "You've not expressed your affections for me."

"I disagree. I believe I have most ardently," Narcissa said.

"Am I to discern this current state as your affections?" He asked her. "Do you loathe me?"

"No," She responded. "Though it would be quite easier for me if I tried."

"If I propose to you now, would you decline or accept?"

"I'm the third daughter; I am required to accept the first man that offers his hand."

"You declined Zabini's," Lucius mentioned.

Narcissa raised her chin slightly. "I said man, not vile creature."

"If I told you that my letter to you was charmed thusly that it would only open when you truly loved me, would it anger you that I deceived you so to ensure that, upon you questioning me about it, I would know your affections for me?" He asked. "Would you feel that I've judged you poorly when I state that the only reason I made such a letter is because I assumed you would never admit to me what I have admitted to you?"

"Maybe," She said.

"Would you be angered if I had fore-knowledge about our relationship before I even met you?"

"Exactly what are you talking about?" Narcissa asked dangerously, taking a step toward him.

Lucius was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together and studied her for a long moment. His shoulders were tensed. Narcissa wondered how she could have been a frightening figure to him, given his status and her stature.

It was clear that he either had no prior intentions of spilling his secret to her, or he had been compelled into secrecy, and he was preparing to break a rather important set of rules.

"Last summer our fathers signed a contract," Lucius began.

"What kind?" Narcissa asked, dread suddenly filling her.

"An arranged marriage," He said.

Narcissa was quite certain that he was fabricating a story out of his anger toward her, but she couldn't be sure. Her father would have discussed it with her. Surely he would have confided in her the Malfoy's interest or at least acceptance of such an agreement.

"What about the other potential brides?" She asked. "I saw the letters that they have been sending you."

"The contract is a secret," He replied. "Naturally, no one else can know."

She shook her head indignantly. "None of this makes any sense."

"You know it does," Lucius remarked. "It all comes together, doesn't it?"

She swallowed the sob that threatened to slip from her throat. "My father said that I had a choice."

"You chose, Narcissa," He said quietly.

She wasn't sure if she was allowed happiness. She felt utterly betrayed, yet there was the unsettled, worrisome part of her that sighed in relief. Her heart, which wound itself tightly to the wish she had never let herself make, warmed her whole body with the knowledge that she could in fact wed him. Suddenly she found it disorienting to place herself at his side. She had spent so much of her time envisioning herself as a heartbroken onlooker that she could not configure it accurately.

She smiled ruefully. "How long have you known?"

"Since the evening it was discussed," He stated. "I signed it."

Suddenly, it did in fact come together for her, and a force of anger hit her so squarely in the chest that she could not breathe for it. His betrayal became so unmistakably plain to her that a sob escaped her lips.

"You've pretended to care for me," She said. "The evening in the garden – the waltz – your father sending me upstairs to find you. You planned everything."

Lucius couldn't look at her. "I didn't wish for you to be unhappy."

"You contrived our relationship," She accused. "When did you know about us?"

"The evening of the ball last summer," He told her, though it was clear that he did not wish to. "Your father called upon our home hours before to arrange the engagement, and I assured your father that I would take it upon myself to ensure that you enjoyed your evening."

"Nothing you've ever said to me has been truth until now," Narcissa murmured.

"Had I known this would cause you such grief, I would not have agreed to the terms," He replied. "I swear."

Narcissa turned her face from him in disgust. "That is what disturbs me, Lucius Malfoy. You only feel remorse because now I affect you."

"That isn't true."

"It is, because I am still the stranger you approached in the garden, who you did not mind charming and deceiving."

She turned at this, for the strength she had left to keep most of her emotions inside was diminishing quickly and she could not, perhaps out of pride, allow herself the weakness in front of him.

"I will loathe myself for telling you this, but you must know the rest," Lucius called. She heard his footsteps behind her. "My father agreed to accept an invitation from your father only on the terms that we were granted your father's estate upon his death. If you marry me, the estate will be entrusted to you and our children. However, if you refuse, your estate goes to me regardless, and you and your family will be penniless. No man will marry you if you've no money or property. I am your only option."

Narcissa mustered what strength she had left, and she turned to him one last time.

"Then a thousand times _no_, Lucius Malfoy," She said.

Narcissa went immediately to school. She wandered up to the top tower, and she leaned against the ledge for a long time, watching happy students carry their sweets from Hogsmeade. How had everything gone so poorly? She wished to be ignorant again. Believing she would never have the opportunity to marry him was better than having the knowledge that he had pretended to care for her so that he could gain more wealth and property. She wept, for she had asked for something so wicked that it had destroyed her. And now it would destroy her family. Narcissa had fulfilled her own prophecy, believing that she would die alone and quite poor. And thus it had finally come true. But she could not bring herself to admit that she loved him, quite desperately, even though he had been the cruelest of any man.

She should have accepted Zabini. Narcissa scoffed at the thought, but it would have been a great deal less painful. A life of misery seemed preferable to Lucius Malfoy making a fool of her, and ensnaring her family's meager reputation to its death. It was worse that she had felt close for a moment, as if the secret arrangement had been a good thing. Her heart had felt unburdened for a moment. It had eased a pain in her that she had inexplicably carried since Bellatrix taunted her about being worthless. She was a coward as much as he.

The door to the tower opened. Narcissa wiped her tears upon her sleeves, and turned quickly.

"So," Andromeda said softly, closing the door slowly behind her. "An interesting altercation occurred today in Hogsmeade."

"Did it?" She asked.

Andromeda approached her side, and leaned against the stone pillar.

"Yeah," She said. "Apparently a very stupid person rejected Lucius Malfoy's proposal."

"How very stupid they must be indeed," Narcissa sniffed.

The sun was setting behind them, casting the sky in an orange glow. She once found the sight a beautiful one, but suddenly it was shallow, glaringly insignificant to other wonders. But the world had lost its luster too, and perhaps nothing was left in it.

"They'll force you," She said softly. "You won't have a choice."

"I know," Narcissa murmured.

"He might let you go," Andromeda suggested. "He let Bellatrix go."

"It's more complex than that," Narcissa explained. "Father signed our estate to him."

She was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry, sister."

Narcissa removed herself from the pillar and inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. Andromeda wrapped her arms around her tightly. Narcissa watched the sun settle on mountainous horizon. When a star came into her view, she remembered that most of the ones seen from Earth had already died.

Andromeda let her go after a while, and she reached up and wiped the tears from Narcissa's face.

"I know a spell that will make you too ill to sleep in the common room," She offered.

"Please."

She woke up in the Hospital Wing and began immediately screaming. Her skull seemed split in half by electric shocks of pain. Madam Pomfrey appeared at her side at once to force a goblet of nearly solidified liquid down her throat.

"Merlin have you got a set of lungs on you," She muttered.

"What's happened?" Narcissa demanded.

"Your sister found you collapsed on the Astronomy tower," She explained. "You've not woken until now."

"How long have I been ill?" Narcissa asked.

"Four days," Madam Pomfrey said quietly. "Your fever waned only just a few hours ago."

She was left alone afterward, a pitcher of water and a goblet left on her bedside table. She wondered what Andromeda had done to her that had left her unresponsive for so long. Surely it had been effective, and had not gone wrong. She couldn't help but wonder if Bellatrix had sought Andromeda after the incident, perhaps assuming she had attacked her on the tower. She hoped not, though irrational behavior was not exactly above her eldest sister.

There were letters upon the table next to her, four of them exactly. She selected them and placed them in her lap. Two of them were from her parents, and she read them with dread, assuming they had learned that she had rejected Lucius. However, the one from her mother was questioning her illness, and the one from her father stated that they had visited her on the night that she had fallen ill. The third one was from Bellatrix, wishing her recovery and announcing that she wanted to talk to her immediately. The final one was from Andromeda, requesting that she not be angry with her for the spell.

The curtain opened, and Lily Evans slipped inside. Her expression was slightly apprehensive, as though she expected Narcissa to refuse her company. She felt ashamed that the girl before her clearly pitied her so much as to be nice to her.

"I brought your classwork," She explained. "Severus fetched your books from the common room, I hope you don't mind."

Narcissa watched her place her textbooks onto the table beside her, and the slip her bag beneath it.

"Why would you extend such a kindness?" She asked.

"Because I've always been told that there are many people whose hearts are bleeding," She said. "And we may never know it. So I'm going to be kind to you, Narcissa Black, just in case."

"Thank you," Narcissa replied, because she had nothing else to say.

She was released at the end of the week in the morning, just in time for breakfast and her morning classes. Narcissa had found the silence of the Hospital Wing comforting, and the numbness that she felt seemed less severe in a room so heavy. She swept down the stairs vacantly, her bag on her shoulders. There were many students milling in the entrance hall, mostly from those that had finished breakfast, but no longer wished to be seated. The double doors were open, and the lofty spring air met her as she ducked into the Great Hall.

The Slytherin table had readjusted to its old formation, the most important seated at the farthest left side. Her sister and fiancé were absent, but it wasn't early enough for her sister to have woken yet. Narcissa glanced at the mid-section where Phoebe Greengrass and Tobias Zabini were sitting, and she decided instead to take a seat in front of Severus Snape.

"Lily Evans told me that you brought her my things," Narcissa stated. "I wanted to thank you for that."

"You're welcome," He replied, uneasily. His gaze flickered up the table, and then back to his plate.

They said nothing more, though she had not anticipated conversation from him. She ate quietly, occasionally feeling Andromeda's watchful gaze upon her, but she quickly turned her head away and smiled whenever Narcissa caught her. She hoped that there would be a day when her sister made peace with what she had once been – what Narcissa and Bellatrix were too afraid to turn their back on. She hated the life she led, but she could never fathom a life outside of it.

Bellatrix burst through the doors dramatically, and sought her out immediately. She gestured for Severus Snape to depart, which he did without hesitation. A part of her assumed he had been keeping watch for her in some fashion anyway. Her eldest sister leaned over the table, palms firmly placed against the table.

"I have a proposition for you, little sister," She announced so loudly that some of the teachers at the staff table stopped to listen. "_You_ can marry Rabastan Lestrange!"

She snapped her fingers, and one of boys that played chess obsessively appeared at her side. He was handsomely opposite of Rodolphus, his hair falling much longer, his nose much more pronounced. His expression was blank, his eyes darkened and far away.

"Gross," Narcissa said. "Bellatrix, he'll practically be related to me once you have married."

"Well, if not him, you might as well marry Regulus, and he _is _related to us."

"I'm not going to marry anyone," She announced.

Bellatrix studied her for several moments, and sensing that she could not find someone suitable enough at the moment, she left her alone. Narcissa heaved her bag over her shoulders and left the hall without eating. She could not bring herself to have much of an appetite. Eating seemed like such a senseless task when everything inside of her was hurting so.

She wanted to march into the Forbidden Forest and never come out again. If she thought it would truly kill her, she might even throw herself from the Astronomy tower. But she knew that both ideas were fantasies she couldn't luxuriate in.

Students passed her as she walked down the sloping lawn toward Care for Magical Creatures. She had never been able to bring herself to care for the subject, and she scarcely recalled any of the lectures most of the time, and thus her studies had not so much improved in the area. Much the same as usual, she paired off with a group of Gryffindors and could just barely pay enough attention to keep herself from being bitten by something fantastical and ferocious.


	11. Chapter 11

"_We outgrow love like other things  
And put it in the drawer,  
Till it an antique fashion shows  
Like costumes grandsires wore."_

By Emily Dickinson

Days became months the way spring rain became sullen, puffy clouds, and summer became deeply nestled in the greenest parts of the lawn. The afternoon was waning into a slow lull by the lake, where the water rippled and splashed.

Narcissa sat upon the boulder that had come to hold her memories. She glanced into the pool of water, expecting to see her face brutish and ugly in the surface, but it was nothing as she had seemed. Nevertheless, the prominent frown made her turn away, just in time to witness the altercation up the hill. Severus Snape was dangling upside down, his robes over his head. James Potter and Sirius Black were guffawing loudly. Students were slowly circling around to have a better look at the scene. She saw Lily Evan's bursting hair as she pushed her way to the center. At this, Narcissa turned away, and folded her arms around her legs.

She had only her Astronomy exam left of her O.W.L's, and she felt significant relief. The morning exams had left her wary, but the practical portions had made her exhausted. A part of her wished to rest in the dorms until it was midnight, but she worried she would not wake in time for it.

Unfolding her legs, she walked the length back to the castle, ignoring whatever might have occurred on the lawns. In the entrance hall, she saw that there was only a group of Slytherins in her year inside, seated at the bottom of the stairs with textbooks in their laps.

"Narcissa!" Tobias Zabini stood up with his things, and quickly made his way toward her. "How'd you with Potions?"

"Well enough, I think," She replied.

He walked with her down the stairs to the dungeons. She heard a scuttle of footsteps as Phoebe Greengrass joined them. She and Tobias chattered about the tests, but Narcissa remained quiet, because she could hardly even remember what she had written after it was done. She wondered if she had failed horribly. It was not as if it mattered, however, considering her role in life.

They entered the common room, and found most of the Slytherins inside. It seemed that the lovely afternoon could not affect the entire House. That or the majority of the house was quite upset that Gryffindor had nearly won the final Quidditch match of the season.

"My cousin's family is kicking off the start of summer festivities," Tobias announced.

Narcissa took a seat in a chair, and Tobias sat on the divan. Phoebe wordlessly sat near him, flicking her eyes upward to him every other moment. It was then that she realized they were hiding a secret engagement.

"I suppose it will be quite lavish," She commented. "Candra's parents have excessive taste in décor."

"They've arranged games of some sort," Tobias replied. "One where each member selects names out of hats for each dance, for example."

"How dull."

Tobias smiled wryly, and she noted that he absently rested his hand near enough to Phoebe's that their fingers brushed. She watched them both blush excitedly over how romantic their small secret was. Narcissa couldn't stand them any longer, and she excused herself quickly and went up the stairs. She passed Bellatrix, whom had taken to watching her often, enough that even Narcissa noticed. Although, her eldest sister was not particularly subtle, and perhaps she was catching her thusly, rather than any kind of excessive motivation on her sister's part. However, she chose to ignore her sister's gaze, and slipped into her dormitory quietly.

Narcissa placed a chair near the window, and she sat serenely watching the water's swirling patterns. She quite preferred this view of the lake. The honest one, which wasn't as beautiful as the initial view, and certainly not effervescent, but tempting and green. There were worlds beneath the lake, intricate ecosystems and life that were depthless and immeasurable.

She pulled the hangings around her bed, and she laid in quaint solace for some time, absent in thought. She could no longer weep; it had exhausted her bones and every avenue of sadness she could muster. She preferred the pain. The apathy that took its place contained more of her suffering than the aching sobs that gave her laborious limbs in the morning. She had not wished to fall to pieces so thoroughly over a situation that she had wanted all along – worse, she loathed that Lucius Malfoy affected her so thoroughly. But her misery was hers alone, and she supposed it had been there all along.

She mourned in the first month. The waltzes, his polite smile and laughter. The ease she felt in his presence. She remembered the nights on the train, in particular when he had fallen asleep across from her. She grieved most over the loss of her only friend. The kindness he had extended seemed genuine, and she wondered at what point his pretense had become truth. He loved her, such glorious words were uttered. She thought that they would bring her a world's worth of relief, and they instead tarnished her dreams. Perhaps that was why mortals were not to dream about other mortals. The disappointment was deafening.

He had all but disappeared. She supposed he thought that she would want him to. He knew her schedule well enough that he patterned his own to never cross hers. She wondered if that ritual would continue after their wedding, if she could not escape it. Forty years of giving each other the slip. He would hide in his study, and she would consume herself in her parlor. Possibly it would be Lady Malfoy's lounge that she took as hers. They would entertain guests and dance with other couples, the way her parents were want to do. At the end of the evening, they would retire to their separate chambers and Narcissa would try to remember how to weep, as she was now.

She skipped dinner so that she could spend the remaining hours studying for her final exam, though she had not attended dinner in a long time. Phoebe extended enough kindness toward her to bring her a meal from the kitchens afterward. Even Mara had contributed to whatever cause they felt that they were honoring. She had taken to doing her homework in silence at the table in Narcissa's dorm. It was clear that she had forgiven her suspicions between her and Candra. Narcissa supposed that the rift between she and Lucius was so palpable that Mara suspected that there was no room for her betrothed to be loved by another.

As it neared midnight, she nervously closed her books and prepared what she would need for the exam. She was quite sure that it would go very poorly, however, she carried herself down the stairs. It appeared that many of the other fifth years had left already; perhaps their nerves had caused them to be overzealous. Never the less, she left the common room with enough time. The dungeons were lowly lit by torches. She could hear dripping echoing down the corridor and her footsteps on the stairs as she ascended into the entrance hall.

Lucius Malfoy was closing the double oak doors slowly behind him when she appeared. She noticed him before he could her, and she froze at the top of the stairs. By the expression on his face, it was clear that he had not anticipated her. She was sure that her own mirrored his feelings.

Slowly, he walked forward. He stopped just before her. He seemed tired, slight lines of dark shadows were around his eyes, and his usually well kempt hair was escaping from the band he secured it with.

"Hello," He said softly. "You must be about to test for Astronomy, yes?"

"Right," Narcissa replied, her voice strained.

"I wish you luck," Lucius said. "How have your others been? Do you feel confident?"

Narcissa nodded her head. "I think so."

"Lovely," He breathed. "I...I knew you would do quite well."

"Thank you," She replied.

Silently, she stepped around him and carried forth to the staircase. She did not wish to look behind her, perhaps see how her action had affected him. A part of her was angered by his deceit, though that was becoming milder. What had taken its place was a thick numb feeling and a bit of confusion. The truth, which she had despaired over, had unfolded for her. It was quite clear that the world before her was not enough.

She could not help herself but want to love and give up the world for him. She had not discerned whether she would sacrifice her freedom by doing so, or if it were just a matter of pride. She had not chosen him before he had been chosen for her, and she knew that was what bothered her the most. For a moment she thought perhaps her society could be fair.

Her exam was prompt, and she felt disoriented and nervous as she peered through her telescope to identify planets and moons that she was sure were inaccurate and wrong. Narcissa thought that perhaps it was unfair to the stars that she was not a genius, capable of quantifying their worth and meaning. She did not do them justice.

As she left the tower, she felt quite confident that she had failed utterly. Her head was aching from the strain of the day, and she was comforted by the fact that she would never again have to complete the same exams. It even occurred to her that this could perhaps be her last time at _Hogwarts_. She would finally be given the governess that she had wanted. Narcissa did not stop to admire the tapestries on the wall or the elaborate, changing staircases. Nor did she envision the many times that she had walked down the dungeon stairs to the common room. Unlike many, the school was not a home or a salvation sought after in earnest for her. It was just a building.

Bellatrix was waiting at the door when she opened it. Her face was excited, cheeks a shining blush, eyes wild.

"I've got it, Cissy!" She proclaimed. "You can marry Regulus! You won't even have to change your name!"

"_Stop it_," Narcissa whined, shouldering past her. "I said no the first time."

"Oh, come on!" Her sister followed after her. "Don't be a drag, Narcissa."

Narcissa clenched her fists to her side and sullenly stomped up the stairs, taking care that each step made a pronounced echo off the opposite wall. The _thud thud_ that reverberated back to her was satisfying enough that she kept up with the racket all the way to her dorm. And then she let the days slip by her.

Boarding the train was possibly the happiest moment that she had experienced in the two weeks of exams. There were many seventh year students weeping, and the compartments were noisy, and the corridors were bustling with teary-eyed goodbyes and laughter. Narcissa, Mara, and Phoebe selected an empty compartment. Mara and Phoebe bickered while she sat in silence – for a moment it felt like it always had. Narcissa wondered if that was possible, to revert back to the past in such quick successions that one could almost forget that there had been progression at all. The difference was evident, however. They were all somehow betrothed.

"Well, we can't get married this summer," Mara remarked conversationally. "Since Bellatrix has claimed it."

She gazed darkly over at Narcissa, as if it were her doing. Narcissa thought it was perhaps lucky that Mara would have to postpone her wedding date.

"Sounds unfortunate," Phoebe remarked, shifting in her seat nervously. "Not that I would know anything about being engaged."

"And who would have you?" Mara replied, sneering.

A few hours later, Candra shoved back the compartment door and leaned into it arrogantly. He had changed from his uniform into elaborately decorated blazing orange robes. They were so shockingly bright that Narcissa felt a prick of pain cross her forehead.

"Hello, girls," He greeted dramatically, as he motioned for Phoebe to move.

With a squeak, she moved to the empty space next to Narcissa, and allowed Candra the room. He sank on the bench, easily wrapping an arm around Mara's small shoulders. He propped his feet up on Phoebe's lap, who was too frightened to protest. She squirmed uncomfortably as Mara glared at her threateningly.

"Let her alone, Candra," Narcissa snapped, pushing his feet onto the floor.

"You're just telling everyone what to do these days, aren't you?" He remarked. "'_A thousand times no, Lucius Malfoy_'. You think you're a big girl, don't you, Cissy? You reject Lucius Malfoy and expect me to fear you, but I don't."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Candra," She said. "I rejected you first, after all."

He tilted his head at her, his expression slightly puzzled. He arranged his fingers in a delicate arch, which he balanced against his chin.

"Since when did poor little Cissy start taking lessons from her big sister?" He asked.

Narcissa pressed her back into the seat and said nothing more. Candra left her alone for once, although she gazed out of the window for much of the time, so she imagined that he could have easily been doing so without her knowledge. Tobias entered the compartment an hour or so later, and took up the space between Phoebe and Narcissa. He was significantly more pleasant than his cousin, whom did not acknowledge his existence.

When the train stopped at King's Cross station, she collected her things with care. Phoebe hugged her tightly, perhaps expressing her gratitude for keeping Candra from teasing her. Tobias tentatively patted her shoulder as he left the compartment, wishing her a pleasant summer, and even Mara gave her a half smile as she departed. Narcissa, though surprised by their reactions, was nevertheless pleased.

She and Bellatrix side-along Apparated to their home. She was apprehensive to even let her sister try, considering it would not bother her much if Narcissa became splinched in half or worse. However, they arrived safely at the end of their driveway. Their trunks had even arrived unmarred. Though she said nothing, Narcissa was rather impressed with Bellatrix's ability. They walked up the driveway in silence, though neither was lost in absent thought. Bellatrix turned the handle, and in her typical fashion, she managed to burst through the door without much effort or even reason for doing so.

"MOTHER!" Bellatrix shouted, disposing of her trunks at the entrance hall.

Narcissa let Poppy out of his cage, and he slipped out groggily, his eyes still half-closed. She too left her things at the entrance hall, and followed Bellatrix, whom was walking smartly over to the parlor. It was cracked a few inches, but not enough for her sister to understand that a private conversation was being had – or perhaps she noted, but did not care – for she opened the door wide, and stopped suddenly at the view before her.

Abraxas Malfoy was casually seated on the divan across from their father, who was smoking snipes slowly, an expression upon him unwaveringly neutral.

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix said sweetly. "I was looking for mother."

"She's in her chambers for the evening," Cygnus responded.

She turned on her heel, and marched smartly from the parlor. Perhaps she had even anticipated that such an event would occur. She might have known something that Narcissa did not. She turned to leave, when Abraxas began speaking.

"My, you've grown since Christmas," He announced. "Hasn't she grown since Christmas?"

Her father was silent, smoke steeping from his mouth. Narcissa nervously clasped her hands together.

"I heard you were ill in the spring," Abraxas said, trying to coax her into conversation. "You are well now, yes?"

"Yes," She replied stiffly.

"Excellent, excellent," He said. "Are you excited for your sister's wedding?"

"I suppose."

"One day it will be your turn," He said. "Won't that be thrilling?"

Narcissa shrugged apathetically. "I'm sure my wedding will be more akin to funeral."

"_Cissy_!" Her mother cried out from behind her. She shooed her from the doorway. "Excuse her, Master Malfoy. She must be distraught after taking such strenuous exams."

Abraxas was chuckling, seemingly more amused than insulted by her remark. Narcissa turned from the doorway and made her way to the stairs. She found Bellatrix, sitting at the end of the steps with one arm curled through the banister, and the other clamped firmly over her mouth. Her shoulders were shaking. She stood up when she saw her sister, and yanked her up the stairs to the second floor, where she let out a howl so loud that the portraits were startled awake.

"That _really _isn't ladylike," A portrait complained.

"I can't believe you said that!" Bellatrix exclaimed, as she picked up the portrait and threw it over her shoulder. It landed midway down the corridor. "What's gotten into you, Cissy?"

"I'm in an arranged marriage, that's what," She explained.

Bellatrix's eyes grew wide in wonder. "With whom?"

"Lucius," Narcissa said. "Father and Master Malfoy signed a contract before the summer ball. The agreement was supposed to be secret. Lucius was supposed to make me fall in love with him, so that I would agree to it."

"So that's why you rejected him," She commented.

"Yes," She replied.

"So…what happens if you don't marry him?" Bellatrix asked.

Narcissa sighed. "We lose our estate and name and become the Weasley's."

Her sister flinched, but then she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You _are _going to marry him though, aren't you?"

"I'll marry him just for your benefit, my darling sister," Narcissa retorted.

"You don't have a choice, Idiot," She said. "You'll ruin yourself right along with me. Remember that."

And just like that, her fleeting alliance to her sister was gone again, and Bellatrix moodily stomped down the stairs, perhaps to bother her mother again. What did she care? Narcissa asked herself this as she climbed the stairs to the third floor. Bellatrix would eventually no longer be a part of their family – her name was not in jeopardy. She could wash her hands of this as soon as soon as her wedding date arrived, which was mere days away.

The house elves had unpacked her things for her. She noted that the robes in her wardrobe chest had been recently washed and pressed, awaiting her arrival. Her bed hangings and blankets were new as well. Poppy was neatly arranged in the center of her vanity table, his legs tucked under him. He was purring loudly, and so she did not disturb him. Instead, she opened her window and carefully drew herself through it and onto the ivy hedge that grew up the side of the house. She climbed carefully, though she was out of practice. The plant was strong enough to hold her weight, in particular, the fence that it grew on was sturdy enough that she could put her foot though the slots and propel herself well enough.

She reached the roof and took a seat at the rough angle, taking care to clutch at the shingles until she felt balanced enough to let go, and fold her hands in her lap. The summer breeze was comforting, soft and familiar. She let her hair escape from the band that she had tucked it into, letting it blow behind her in the breeze. The emptiness of her home made her realize that perhaps _Hogwarts _was more than a building. She remained on the roof until she saw Abraxas ambling to the end of the driveway, and she climbed down. She knew her mother would be coming up to her room to reprimand her for her actions immediately afterward anyway, and it was perhaps best if she not be missing when she called upon her.

Narcissa reached her vanity table, where she began brushing the tangles from her hair. Poppy hissed and dropped to the floor, but he walked gingerly to the bed post, and jumped calculatingly onto the mattress. As she had suspected, her mother gave her a two knock warning, and then opened the door.

"Why are you still in your uniform?" Her mother asked quizzically.

"I forgot I was wearing it," Narcissa replied hastily, placing her brush down onto the table.

"I see – that wasn't why I came here – what _has_ gotten into you, Narcissa?" She asked. "You cannot insult others with your impudence, especially not Master Malfoy. The Malfoy's are a well-respected family that has repeatedly extended acts of kindness our way even though we might not deserve them, I cannot believe that you would disrespect him in such a way."

"I'm sorry, Mother."

Her mother had clearly anticipated an argument, for she opened her mouth to lecture her some more, but upon realizing that Narcissa apologized, she closed her mouth firmly.

"Very well," She said at last. "We are going shopping in the morning. If you want to go, be ready by then."

Narcissa immediately decided that she would opt out of what would undoubtedly be a disastrous experience. She imagined that Bellatrix would have her choice in dress, not that her mother wouldn't try to argue her into another one. She simply could not bear listening to either of them, knowing that they would never agree upon anything, and that it would be worse, because they did not have ample amount of time to choose.

Indeed, the next morning when she woke for breakfast, her mother and sister were vehemently arguing at the breakfast table. Her mother was so distracted by Bellatrix's insistence that her veil be set on fire mid-way down the aisle that she did not notice that Narcissa had joined them in the dining room in her dressing gown. It was then that she chose to relish her sister's wedding day, for it made it a great deal easier to slip by unnoticed.

"We must be off," Druella announced, clutching Bellatrix by the hand, and wrenching her up from the table. "_Narcissa_, don't wear your dressing gown to the table – you know better – Bellatrix you cannot get married in a red dress, they'll think you're some sort of Scarlet woman…"

Her mother ushered her eldest sister from the room at last, leaving Narcissa alone to drink her coffee. She first pondered how she would spend such an idle morning, as she had the entire home to herself. She knew it would take nearly all morning and afternoon for her mother and sister to decide upon the proper attire, and her father had called upon the Malfoy's for some kind of activity. Her personal presumption was that they were attempting to make amends with her. She would not be coaxed, however. She knew she would be forced to marry, that she had been coerced so by a charming Lucius, but she did not want to relent. Her father had not bothered to speak with her on the issue. That fact bothered her most.

After coffee she dressed and braided her hair, and spent an hour sliding down the banister. Afterward, she held lunch in the courtyard, and then took a nap in her hammock. Once she had woken to find that her family had yet to return, she took a stroll down the hill, though she only went part of the way, and then she trudged back up. She still remembered how difficult it had been to walk the entire way back. It was not until she sat down for dinner that her mother and sister arrived, but still there was no sign of her father.

Her mother looked quite cross, but Bellatrix was gleeful. They took their seats opposite of her.

"The seamstress will have it ready the day before the wedding," Her mother announced, huffing. "Which is very well too late, I should say. I wanted it finished this evening, but it took us four hours to decide."

She tossed Bellatrix a sour look, and then poured herself water from the pitcher in the center of the table.

"And anyway, she did not have the proper fabric, and so she must order it from Belgium," Druella continued. "The woman had the nerve to ask Bellatrix if she was _with child_ – which is absurd – and I replied, 'No, of course not!' As if the thought could even occur to her, that woman – I said, 'My daughter thought it wise to go to school instead of plan her wedding!' I think that if you had _just _stayed home we could have had everything arranged already, but of course that would have been easy on your poor, old mother."

"I think I'm tired," Narcissa announced, after her mother's spill. "Goodnight."

"Where is your father?" Her mother asked. "I want to tell him about the seamstress."

"He's been at the Malfoy's since before you left," Narcissa replied, shrugging.

Druella pursed her lips. "That's quite odd. Did he tell you why he was going?"

"I didn't see him."

"_Oooh_," Bellatrix crooned. "Maybe he's taken up a mistress!"

"You watch your tongue, girl!" Druella snapped, her spine bristling.

Narcissa slipped through the door while her mother was distracted. She wished that she could slumber through the days before her dear sister's wedding, and wake up again when it was a piece of the past. She trudged up the staircase, allowing her footsteps to thump heavily against the wood. Even the house was tired. It settled and creaked around her as she went to her chambers. She did want to know what her father was up to, but most importantly, she wanted to forgive him. Had he really betrayed her, or had she already chosen whom she wanted to be with? She couldn't make amends with what had occurred, yet she could not believe that it had happened.

As she opened the door, she saw the darkened silhouette of an owl perched upon her window. Wordlessly, she crossed the room and opened it. Before her was a ruffled-looking bird that knew was familiar, and a scroll bound to its leg with a family seal that took the breath from her very lungs to see it.


	12. Chapter 12

___You love me, and I find you still__  
__A spirit beautiful and bright,__  
__Yet I am I, who long to be__  
__Lost as a light is lost in light._

_I am not Yours, _by Sara Teasdale

The Parkinson's lived on the main family estate in Margate. It was a small mansion on a sloping hill by the beach, surrounded in a magical forest intended to expel Muggles from the area. Their home was far too small to house as many guests that attended, and therefore the festivities were held outside in the expansive courtyard. However, the arrangement itself was problematic and often led to drunken guests stumbling blindly into the forest and down to the beach.

Narcissa sat at a round table set by herself with a goblet of red currant rum and a blueberry scone. The drinks were automatically refilling, and with each sip the goblet filled to the brim again. There was a great deal more magic involved at the other Pureblood family's parties, perhaps because they were attempting to outdo one another in ways that her family and the Malfoy's had the privilege of avoiding.

There was a bit of dancing occurring, but it was usually an idle event. This was common for the first summer ball, though the Parkinson's had apparently amended the tradition somewhat.

"Gather 'round, folks, gather 'round!" Mr. Parkinson bellowed. "Your drinks will be there when you are done; I can assure you of that!"

She gathered at the fringe of the crowd. There were dancing bulbs of light above them, casting the dark area in such a glow that the stars were barely visible above them. The hosts had even arranged an orchestra to play at the edge of the forest.

"Now, I've put all of the men's names in my hat," Mr. Parkinson announced, plucking his hat from his head theatrically, and waving his wand. Bursts of parchment came spilling out from the inside. "And I want you all of you delicate women to come choose one – for the parchment will reveal your dance partner!"

A few of the men clapped softly, but like Narcissa, most of the women seemed less than pleased. Even Bellatrix, who was the first to come forward and select a partner, was angered by the arrangement. A few minutes passed before Pearl moved forward. She sneered as she called out Regulus's name. He came forth from the beverages table, having neglected to even join the group at all. There was hesitancy that came from each of the women standing around, but finally they were moving more quickly, fearing humiliation less. Narcissa stepped forward before she could be the last, though she would have preferred to have run into the woods and try to be forgotten.

She scrambled to the front and dipped her hand into the hat, which was nearly empty now. There were four or five – maybe six, bother, she couldn't tell – slips of parchment left. She drew in a breath, took one from the hat, and turned slowly toward the group of people watching her.

"Abraxas Malfoy," Narcissa announced with full embarrassment.

The crowd laughed politely at this. A few of the more inebriated members voiced their own inappropriate jokes, but they did not give her cheek the way she had anticipated. After all of the women had chosen, Mr. Parkinson placed his hat back upon his head, and announced that the lineup should begin. She took her place in front of Abraxas as the first in line, and therefore the lead. Her father and her mother, by some stroke of luck, were second, and then Mr. Parkinson and Mrs. Zabini were in third.

"How fortunate am I to have such a fluent dance partner. Don't you agree, Miss Black?" Abraxas asked her.

"I am not so fluent," Narcissa insisted.

"Your modesty is flattering," He complimented.

She said nothing. The violins began, and Master Malfoy took the first step, crossing over to her. She placed her hand in his and turned, making figure eights around her mother, crossing over to her father, and then over to Mrs. Zabini. The line went rather like the order of stitches do, looping from one end to another down the line, and then crossing back. Fortunately, Abraxas was a quiet dance partner, but there was a smile upon his face that she knew was meant to vex her.

How she wished the dance could end quite soon. There were some that were stumbling and making mistakes, sometimes not making an entire loop, and others that mid-way through fell out of the line, too drunk to coordinate themselves. She was lost in the shuffle of people, and she paid only enough attention that she could take the proper steps. She saw no one's face and had no desire to look for anyone in particular, but especially not Lucius, whom she was sure she had passed already. Finally, she wrapped around to the position that Abraxas had first taken on the right, and now he on the left. She dipped into a curtsey as the music ended.

As if he could not resist, Abraxas spoke just before she was politely allowed to leave. "It is a shame that you had not chosen my son's name – I will be sure to tell him what he missed."

"Judging by the absence of both he and his partner, I should say that their dance was worth more than mine," Narcissa replied, coldness to her voice, but it was nevertheless true.

She curtseyed again, and then she left the dance square. Both Lucius and Mara Parkinson were absent now, though she had seen them at the start of the lineup. She turned to see Abraxas's reaction to her statement, and she was pleased to note that his expression was nothing short of enraged. She watched him take her own father aside, and whisper in his ear. It was then that she had decided to evade the festivities herself.

The orchestra said nothing to her, nor did they look at her, as she approached the forest and walked into it. She lit the tip of her wand and walked smartly down the forest path, unsure of where she wanted to go. Narcissa decided the destination would not matter, merely the silence that the woods would undoubtedly bring. She could hear violins playing as she delved off of the path, and into the thicker part of the forest.

After seven minutes of walking, she came upon a small clearing. It was clear that Mr. Parkinson had cleared the spot for himself, for a wooden bench was placed in the center. She took a seat upon it, and rested her aching back.

She thought it was curious how she had lived her life in dreams. She first noted Lucius Malfoy's presence last summer, which seemed like years ago. Perhaps even decades. How he had approached very much like a dream itself! Never had she been sure that he was real. Nor could she have imagined dancing with Master Malfoy – such things were so impossible that she remembered when she could not have imagined herself dancing with anyone at all. She was comforted for a time that things she had wanted so had come true, but she unfortunately understood that what she had ached for was no longer important to her, which was perhaps the most painful part about dreaming.

Narcissa rose from her place, and began her way back to the party. Undoubtedly, they had noted Lucius's absence and by proxy, her own. It seemed like it had been years since their altercation had occurred, yet it must not have been, for the adults still expected them to be at one another's side. She could not help but miss her old friend as well. Narcissa had folded his letter up and tucked it into her sleeve for safekeeping, but most of all, to remind her of what it meant to her.

As she exited the forest, she took care to remove leaves from her hair, although most of the other guests were disheveled. All of the women's dress robes were slightly dirty from the dirt, and most were drunk enough that they were worn in appearance. Narcissa stepped out near the orchestra, and as she approached the tables, she saw Lucius excuse himself from the two women that he had been conversing with to approach her. The crowd between them dispersed as he walked past them, and he stopped once he was at the opposite end of the table as she.

"We were…I was…" Lucius cut himself off, as if he wasn't sure what to say.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Narcissa greeted, dipping into a shallow curtsey, even though her feet were starting to swell.

A strangled look of confusion crossed his face, before he realized what she was doing.

"Hello, Miss," He replied, bowing. "I believe that your name has slipped my mind."

"That's a shame," Narcissa replied. "I am the doting sister of the most powerful witch in the world, Bellatrix Black. My name is Narcissa."

"What an odd thing to say," Lucius announced, laughing.

"That my name is Narcissa?" She asked him. "It's true, I would not lie."

"I believe you, Miss Black, I assure you," He said quickly. "But you being a doting sister seems highly improbable when you are escaping into the woods unseen without her."

"Even a good person makes a mistake."

Lucius stepped closer to her after her words, and she reciprocated his actions. His hands were clasped casually behind his back as he leaned toward her ear to whisper:

"Are you well enough to marry today?"

"I daresay this is no place to be married in," She responded.

"Some would disagree," Lucius stated. "I imagine the Parkinson's would, for instance."

Narcissa shook her head. "What _were _they thinking?"

"I cannot say," He said, drawing ever more closely to her.

He released one of his hands from behind his back, and swept it across her jaw, cupping her lightly and pulling her in for a light kiss. She was so surprised that he was brazen enough to do so in public that she did not respond to him at first, but then she relaxed her shoulders. With his other hand, he grasped hers.

"Cissy!"

A blow to her shoulder struck her, and with a start she roused. Shoots of pain went down her neck and spine, and she groggily glanced around. A light from Bellatrix's wand was the only source she could see – the rest was darkness. She was sitting on the bench in the forest clearing, much the same way that she had been when she had first discovered its placement.

"They sent me to find _you_," Bellatrix replied. "You've been missing for hours. I only just stumbled upon you. They party has been over for ages."

Still foggy, she followed her sister. Her dream had seemed so real, as if she had really stood up and returned back to the party…

Bellatrix marched smartly out of the woods in a different direction than she had taken. When they reached the outline of the forest, she could see her mother and father waiting by the carriage. There were bodies slouched in some of the seats, and a house elf was attempting to clean the mess around them, careful not to trod across anyone. Even Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson were passed out at one of the tables.

As they broke through the trees and into the clearing, their arrival alerted her parents. They said nothing as her father helped each of them into the carriage, and still yet they were silent on the way home. Narcissa wondered what sort of punishment would be given to her, for their silence was abnormal. She averted her gaze for the rest of the way, taking care to watch the moon from the window.

Upon their arrival home, they trudged up the driveway and onto the doorstep. Cygnus Black held the door open for them. Narcissa turned in the foyer to follow Bellatrix up the stairs, but her mother laid her hand across her shoulder, and directed her to the parlor. Her eldest sister was far too sleepy to notice that no one had followed her, and so she did not insist upon being present to overhear whatever lecture Narcissa was surely about to receive. Her father followed behind them, and puzzled, she wondered if she really _was _even going to be lectured. Typically her father chose to not engage scolding he did not conduct himself.

"Sit," Her mother commanded, gesturing to the divan opposite of her.

She sank onto the seat wordlessly, and clasped her hands together. Narcissa opened her mouth to apologize, but she stopped short as she saw the glare that was fastened upon her father instead.

"I was collecting a drink for myself at the refreshment table this evening when I overheard the most peculiar discussion," Druella commented. "Mara Parkinson was asking Lucius Malfoy just _how _exactly he thought he could woo Narcissa again, since she had rejected his proposal already."

Narcissa tensed in her seat. Her father lit one of his cigarettes calmly and placed one leg over the other.

"And I asked myself," She continued. "'Now, why would my daughter reject a man she had been seeking in the first place?' Thus, I waited until Mara turned away, and then I approached Lucius. I asked him about this alleged proposal. And Lucius, such a clever boy, gave an incomprehensible reply and then spent the rest of the evening dodging me."

_It must have been when he disappeared after the dance, _Narcissa thought.

"I asked Abraxas Malfoy about it before he left," She stated. "He told me everything."

Her father shifted in his seat, exhaling smoke from him in great gulps. "So you know, then, Druella."

"Why wasn't I informed?" She questioned. "Cygnus, I should have known. I could have been _preparing_ her. You should have told _us _the moment it was arranged. You had no right to deceive me – worse; you had no right to deceive Narcissa."

"I have deceived no one," He replied. "I knew you would sabotage the arrangement if you could, Druella, because it undermines Bellatrix's choices. I also gave Narcissa my word that she could, at any point, reject his offer, and so she has—"

"You reinstated the contract after she told him no!" Druella retorted. "That's hardly giving her a choice, is it?"

"This is the most important marriage of the century," Cygnus Black replied. "We cannot let this one go."

"You double-crossed your own daughter!" Druella snapped.

"For a _reason_."

"No. For a place in a history that doesn't matter," She said. "You're trying to save something that has been dying for a long time now, Cygnus."

"Our society will prevail."

"It has already died, Cygnus, because of people like _you…"_

"DISMISSED!"

He stood up, ripping the cigarette from his mouth, and dropping it onto the floor. Narcissa watched it burn a hole through the rug, a neat, circular black mark not unlike the holes on the family tapestry at Aunt Walburga's.

"This isn't an issue that you can dismiss me from!" Druella argued. "I'm your wife; I have a right to determine what is good for my daughters."

"_Get out_ of my parlor, Druella, or I shall make certain you regret it."

"I already regret more than just _this_, Cygnus," She hissed.

She caught Narcissa by the collar and dragged her from the room. She didn't let go of her drip on her until she deposited her into her bedroom chambers. Narcissa stood in her doorway, watching her mother's stiff back retreat down the corridor to her own room. She expected a door slam, or some indication that she was upset, but there was only silence.

Narcissa unfolded the letter from her sleeve, and she read it once more:

_Dear Narcissa,_

_I thought you would perhaps be curious to know that your father called upon my father for most of the day, afternoon, and evening. I was not as observant as I could have been, and for that I apologize. In the morning, we shared tea in the garden and spoke of nothing. My father made disparaging comments about myself, but complimented your ironic statement about weddings reminding you of funerals – even with my knowledge and consistency of you, I must admit, you deserve to be commended for your cleverness – your father sang his praise for you. We have all praised your keen mind, but here I shall praise only the mercy that you extend upon me. I have failed you and my father, entrusted with secrets I should not have told nor accepted in the first place, and your silence has granted me peace that I don't deserve._

_I digress, for there is more to my letter than my apology, which I assure you, still remains true. We spent the full afternoon exploring the property that, over the centuries, we have expanded upon. Your father asked about our family history, we asked of his. We talked about politics and I told them about how I thought my N.E.W.T exams had been. _

_We passed the spring that I recall we waltzed near. We passed the apple orchard, where Father insisted we rest for tea that the house elves had placed. While they conversed, I climbed the largest apple tree, and imagined that, if it were not for the trees, the hills, and the very sky itself, I could see your manor, and perhaps if the view was right, your window would face my direction, and I could find you in your bedroom chambers. Here is where my imagination is marred, Narcissa. I cannot possibly imagine what it is you do in your spare time, and so I fabricate Christmas, where I found you snoozing across your destroyed canopy, and I wonder if your cat still sinks his little claws into the hangings. I wonder these things, because I can never tell if you are as consistent as I am. Perhaps you are much more interesting, for I am no adventurer and mostly, I believe my days are wasted in absent thoughts of you. _

_But this letter is not about my thoughts, and so I will continue my report. We left the orchard, walked about the forest some more until both my father and yours grew tired of the exercise. Your father commented that he had never grown up in the country, and how refreshing the air is outside of the city. We returned to my father's study upstairs soon after, and it became clear to me that we would no longer be discussing polite topics. _

_I hope that what I am about to write will not further your hatred toward me, and if you regard me as ambivalently as you did the evening I saw you before your Astronomy exam, then I hope you do not come to hate me now. My weaknesses lead me to discussing with them the truth, for I feared I could not convince you to love me after I presented the negotiations to you, and I knew that they would expect me to if they did not know otherwise. They were angry with me, but your father announced that he found the results pleasing. He asked that we terminate the contract between us, because you had clearly presented your wishes. Narcissa, I ask that you not feel betrayed by your father, but that you feel betrayed by me. Let any lingering anger or fear be placed upon me, and not your father, for he is a courageous man. He told my father that, if it was your wish, then you could marry whomever you loved, and that his name and wealth was worth the price of your happiness. At this, I interjected. _'Forgive me,'_ I said, _'Master Black, I wish not to cause harm to your daughter. My intentions were ill-advised and wrongly stated.' _ To which your father nodded, as if he understood, and he responded, _'One cannot be wise and in love at the same time'. 

_My letter henceforth comes to news you may not wish to hear. Your father reinstated the contract. He believes that we can mend what has come between us, but he said that I must assure you that I want nothing more than to love you truly. I was not asked to write this letter, I do because I know no other way. I will take a thousand of your rejections, as you suggested, (as I deserve) but I humbly ask for your forgiveness. Tomorrow evening is the Parkinson ball, and my family is attending. I wanted to warn you that our fathers have no intentions of revealing to you that they know what has been broken between us, and they do not tell you, because they want you to have your own choice. However, I ask that if this letter has not made you resent me more thoroughly, that I might have the opportunity to speak with you, if only for a moment, even if all we muster are polite greetings. I would ask you if you were willing to marry tomorrow evening, but out of my own relation to you, and from experience, I know your answer was and will be 'no'. I am content with this answer for however long you wish to present it to me, so long as you should allow me the permission to always ask it. So long as you could extend your kindness enough to reject me again and again, so that I might hear your voice – so that I might hear a clever response from you. So that I might stay near enough to your heart, meaning that you are not yet apathetic enough to accept me nor reject me. But I respect your feelings and your person, and I understand that I ask for these things and deserve neither._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Poppy woke her in the morning as he gave a great yowl and pounced full-force at the window. Narcissa let out a shriek, and leaped out of bed. Her movement caused Poppy to scurry away, and she opened the window and let the blasted owl through. She sighed heavily, wondering what Lucius Malfoy wanted _now. _She smacked Poppy in the nose as he batted at the owl, which flew quickly to the top of her wardrobe closet. She unfolded the scroll, and read the contents through briefly. She grew quite tired of his beautifully scrawled handwriting and his self-deprecating rhetoric. Narcissa thought perhaps his father _was _pressuring him to write such letters. She could not trust him to confide in her such a secret that he had kept, how could she believe him now?

She threw the letter into the wastebasket, and shooed the owl from her room. Let her _silence _be a mercy he didn't deserve ever still. _Pah_. Narcissa smoothed out her hair with her brush, braided it, and then dressed for the day. She had breakfast in the parlor, and was surprised to find that no one came to the table. Afterward, she went upstairs to seek her family out. Her parent's bedroom was empty, and as she opened her sister's, she found that the hangings on her sister's bed were pulled tightly. She stood quietly for a moment longer, and heard a loud snore from within. Silently, she turned from the room, and went back downstairs.

She was reading in the parlor when the door opened. Bellatrix still had not woken, and she had not thought to rouse her in case their mother found her in such a state. Narcissa thought perhaps her sister would argue that she was resting for her wedding day, but she couldn't be sure if she would think of such a thing. Narcissa might have thought it, if she was getting married in a few days and if she was bold enough.

To her surprise, it was not just her mother and father that entered the room, but Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy as well. She let the novel slap shut as she tossed it haphazardly onto the table in front of her. She unfolded her legs from the sofa and placed them onto the floor. She stood up, folding her hands behind her back. As Abraxas and Lucius took seats across from her, she curtseyed and waited for her mother to take her seat next to her. Her father stood behind them.

"Good morning, Miss Narcissa," Master Malfoy greeted. "You seem as enchanting as ever. Were you enjoying your book?"

"Thank you," Narcissa replied. "Yes, sir."

"Lucius was quite anxious to see you," He continued. "We've seen him at dinner more than ever, which means your letters must be quite few as of late."

Narcissa stole a glance at Lucius. So his letters were dictated. She almost scoffed at him.

"I had no idea that he corresponded to her by letter," Her mother inserted, lips pursed.

Abraxas's smile widened, but he was quiet. Instead, he looked to his son to express an answer. Lucius looked briefly to her, and she turned her face from him. Narcissa was more angered at the fact that she was _not _thoroughly repulsed by his presence than she was actually repulsed by him.

"I…"

Her mother stood abruptly and left the parlor. In her absence, her father took the seat she had been occupying.

"Now," Cygnus began. "We have an issue to attend to, do we not? My daughter proposed to your son, she rejected him, and we reinstated the engagement. But it would seem that Narcissa has other thoughts on the matter. Narcissa, would you like to explain your reasoning?"

"You're bullying me," She responded, her face flushing in anger.

"We would never," Abraxas responded.

His voice was cold, even dangerous. There was a silky way which he spoke, and though he was smiling, she couldn't feel as though he was expressing anything other than malice.

"I'm upset that I was deceived, as I have mentioned to-"

The parlor doors opened, and her mother held in her hand the two letters that she had received from Lucius. One, which she had folded into her sleeve the evening before, and the other which she had crumpled only just this morning.

"_Dear Narcissa,_" Her mother began. "_I miss your company. I am foolish. I know you won't respond to my letters, and I understand why, but from the looks of my owl, you are kind to him while he is in your care. I thank you for your small gestures, even if they are not necessarily made toward me. My father told me what a wonderful dancer you were last night, and as I am sure he told you, I regret that it wasn't my name that you chose. We left before your sister had found you in the woods, and father insisted we go home, so I could not look for you myself. I hope that you are well, and that you were found promptly and without ailment of any kind. Your friend, Lucius Malfoy."_

"Rather innocent, I should suspect," Abraxas Malfoy replied, after she folded the parchment and placed it pointedly into Lucius's hand.

"_I should suspect_ my daughter won't have need of these if she does not write you back," She stated. "Were you aware, Abraxas, that he also included a letter detailing extensively the plans the two of you made behind the both of our backs? Seems you have someone you cannot trust."

Abraxas remained jovial, and in good nature he easily responded, "Lucius persists toward the truth, and I see no problem with him expressing to Narcissa things that pertain to her."

"I agree," Cygnus replied. "If the children wish to be entirely informed, then from here on we shall be direct."

"Which brings us to the conversation that we were beginning with your lovely daughter, Druella," Master Malfoy replied, and he turned in his seat to look over at her.

Narcissa looked to her mother for help, but she was staring at her much the way that her father and Abraxas was, and so she looked to the only other person that could help her: Lucius. He gestured toward the courtyard just beyond the window.

"I need air," She announced, standing up quickly. She touched her forehead as if she were suddenly faint. "Someone assist me to the courtyard for a moment."

"Lucius," Abraxas commanded, before her mother could intercept.

"Yes, sir."

She looped her arm through his, and he guided her out of the parlor and down the hallway. It reminded her suddenly of last summer when her father had called upon him for dinner. Narcissa understood now what that evening actually meant, but she couldn't believe that her father hadn't been on her side.

They stepped out into the courtyard, and she guided them away from the view of the parlor window.

"Exactly what do they want from me?" Narcissa hissed.

They began a slow turn toward a set of chairs that met directly in front of the parlor windows, in which case much of their conversation would have to be made quite short.

"They want your consent," Lucius replied. "My father especially, since your father won't agree to the terms – they're both desperate, Narcissa, and they will do whatever they have to…"

"My mother, is she part of their plan? She read the letters…"

They came to the chairs, and the both of them made a rather enthusiastic display of placing her delicately into one of the seats.

"No," Lucius said, quickly stepping away from her.

"What happens if I don't say yes?" She asked. "What else is at stake that I don't know of?"

"I'm quite certain that my father would ensure doubly that your family name would be ruined."

Narcissa laughed. "Is that all? Let him drown it, for all I care."

Something crossed his face that she couldn't read. It became quite clear to her that she had forgotten many things that she knew about him. There was something very tense about his stature, less powerful. Weak, one might say. She wasn't sure if it had been there all before and she had not seen it, or if it had just surfaced.

"They will force you," He reminded her. "I know you want this to go your way, but it won't, Narcissa. They'll ruin everything if you let them. They'll ruin your name, your life, your future. They will ruin us."

"You've done a rather smashing job of that yourself," She replied.

"I'm on your side," Lucius announced. "Remember that. Whether you say yes or no, you have my full support."

"What good does that do?"

"At least it's someone."

Narcissa was quiet for a moment, and then she stood up from her chair, and stalked past him. He followed her.

"We can make an Unbreakable Vow," He suggested.

"Over what?" Narcissa asked, slowing her pace.

"I'm forever in debt to you," Lucius said. "Regardless of whether or not you marry me, I must provide for you so well that you will always live in luxury, always have your reputation, and have all of your needs covered."

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

Narcissa opened the door and passed through it. They were nearing the parlor door when Lucius stopped her. She was about to protest when he pressed a finger to his lips. He took her hand in his and held it, as if it was of the most importance, and then he kissed each ridge across her hand. She withdrew from him, and turned away abruptly. She retreated back into the parlor, where her parents and Abraxas had seemingly been arguing over something, she presumed they were wondering about their obvious stall for conversation.

"Feeling better?" Abraxas asked.

"Yes," She responded, taking her seat.

She heard Lucius sit rather than observe, for she was pointedly refusing to make eye contact with him. Had he thought of an Unbreakable Vow before now? It hadn't seemed like an idea that suddenly struck him. She had to wonder if his father had not instructed him to act as though he was rebelling against what his father wanted.

"Now, Narcissa, we were discussing before our interruptions your feelings toward the engagement," Abraxas coaxed, glancing over to her mother, as if waiting or her to interject with something.

She was completely silent, which frightened her considerably.

"I was under the impression that I did not have a choice," She replied softly.

"Well, correct, yes, but we nevertheless want you to be _happy _with the arrangement, you see?" Master Malfoy said. "Because if you were to – how shall I say it – _stray _from your contract…"

"Well, then it seems this matter has been settled, hasn't it?" Narcissa interrupted. "I'm to marry your son, and if you want me to sign a contract stating that I won't have extraneous relationships with others, so be it. My happiness doesn't really apply in this situation, now does it?"

She stood up and smoothed her robes. She wasn't sure where her insolence had come from – or bravery, if she dared think of it that way. Mostly, she was terrified that she would be punished for her rudeness, and worse, she feared that they would ruin any of her future prospects. How could her father become so entangled into the Malfoy's web? Did he owe him money? He had tried to arrange not one, but two, marriages to Lucius.

Narcissa sat on the staircase, propping her chin up with both of her hands. She recalled that Lucius had stood on the step during Christmas that she was currently sitting upon. Had he not attempted to tell her then? Had he not wished to divulge the entire secret at that moment, let it ruin whatever they had? She wasn't certain. She mulled over the instances she could recall with him, yet none of them made sense to her. What was real? She could scarcely know. The world around her could dissipate, and perhaps she would be barely conscious enough to note the change.


	13. Chapter 13

_Whoever has no house now will not build one__  
__anymore.__  
__Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long__  
__time,__  
__will stay up, read, write long letters,__  
__and wander the avenues, up and down,__  
__restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.__  
_

_Autumn Day _by Rainer Maria Rilke

"Finish it, you clod!" Bellatrix shouted.

She huffed loudly, and relaxed her arms to her side, which had previously been held outward for what must have been an excruciating fifteen minutes. The seamstress was sewing the last of the nearly five hundred pearls expanding across the bodice of her intricately woven wedding gown.

"We're almost done, Bellatrix," Her mother encouraged, though she spoke through her hands, which were clasped over her distraught face as she slumped over in a chair.

"All of this for one night," She responded. "And I won't even be here for the entirety of it."

Narcissa stood by the door, listening somewhat, but she had thus far been silent and felt no desire to contribute to the conversation. The emotions in the room were overwhelming. Bellatrix and Druella had started their morning with a shouting match. Her mother was in an overworked frenzy, ranging from furious accusations against her father, Bellatrix, and the seamstress, to joyous celebration, and now crumpling despair. Her eldest sister had a transfixed and irritated expression that she had consistently carried the entire morning.

Druella sighed, and removed herself from the chair she was in and said, "I am going to survey the decoration process with your father for a moment…"

After she left, Bellatrix let out another aggravated sigh and slapped the seamstress so hard that she fell backward onto the floor. Then she lowered herself into the chair in front of her vanity table, smoothing out the layers of the gown. It puffed and billowed around her, and the train strayed behind.

"Don't ever get married, Narcissa," Her sister instructed, furiously dabbing her face with powder. "_I_ should have run off like Andy."

Her face broke its hardened expression and she let out a soft sob. Her shoulders fell, and she began to violently weep. Narcissa swallowed, unsure of how to comfort her. She had not thought that Andromeda's escape had affected her eldest sister, in fact she thought that she was more than glad to be rid of her.

"Bitch _ruined_ my wedding," She announced. "You know I had to ask Pearl Parkinson to be the other bridesmaid? _Pearl_. Oh, it's just so humiliating. Andy's always been selfish, though. Couldn't even bother to s-send me a l-letter of c-congratulations."

Another round of tears consumed her sister, and she wept so furiously that the seamstress was able to secure the veil in her hair without her noticing. Narcissa's response wasn't even necessary, she supposed, and so she gave no reply, no words of encouragement, or comforting gesture. What could she possibly say to a sister who was her worst enemy? There was no comfort, no love, in this society. It had begun so and it would end just as cold and unfamiliar. A part of her wished it would take its final, dying breath. She could be rid of the sad corridors called family, the whimsical façade of love in a great ballroom. Bid _adieu_ to the revolting reflection staring back at her in the mirror which she was placed in front of on the wall. She studied the curve of its lips, this figure, the shadow of its eyes. Small, sad corners formed the lips and something very dead inside stared back at her. She turned away, found her sister peering into her own reflection, and then she stood and turned about the room.

"Of course, I suppose you've no choice," Bellatrix straightened, and began wiping the tear stains from her eyes and cheeks. "What with Lucius Malfoy so eager to marry a Black."

She scoffed to herself, and began to swiftly pluck hairs from her eyebrows, three from each side. The seamstress was off to the side, stiffly watching her with narrowed eyes.

"He's _hardly _fit for either of us, though you're probably the most applicable," Bellatrix went on. "'Course, once he couldn't have me, I should have assumed he would have taken the next best thing…Andromeda, of course, but she left before he could get his hands on her, but he might have skipped her anyway, being a Ravenclaw and known blood traitor…but you'll do nicely, Cissy…you two even look alike. How he'll covet your round belly full of his offspring, no doubt a boy just like the Malfoy before him, and the Malfoy before that…"

"Could you be any more inappropriate?" Narcissa snapped, slowly perching herself upon her sister's bedframe.

"Of course," She laughed and turned from the mirror, facing her sister. "Do you want me to tell you how you _get _a baby inside of you, Cissy?"

"Like you would actually know," She retorted.

"But I _do _know, little sister," She drawled. "Want me to draw you a little picture?"

"I'll tell Mother," Narcissa warned. "I'll tell her you're terrorizing me and not preparing for your wedding, I shall. She'll scream something awful at you."

"Oh, I don't care," Bellatrix replied. "You should seduce him. At least have a bit of fun before you spend the rest of your life being positively miserable with him. I wouldn't marry a man if he wasn't good in bed…"

"_Seduce him_?" Narcissa clamped her hand over her mouth.

Her sister howled. The entire conversation clearly amused her so much that she could barely contain herself as she said, "Oh, oh, Cissy. I bet you already _have_. Men do love innocence. Ha! I bet he just can't wait to _tear_…"

Druella opened the door, relieving Narcissa of the horrifying conversation her sister was insisting upon. She announced loudly that the guests had all arrived, and that they had mere minutes to finish. Hurriedly, Bellatrix worked the powder into her pores. Her mother grasped both of her cheeks and pinched them, then her lips, to fill them with color. Each of them quickly reached for part of her train, and delicately smoothed the lace in between their palms, and walked behind her as she made her descent down the corridors and staircases. Bellatrix walked briskly, so much that her mother and the seamstress nearly tripped down the stairs. Narcissa was fortunate enough to be the last in line, and therefore she did the least work, so she did not stumble.

They reached the foyer, where her father and Pearl were waiting. As Narcissa reached the bottom of the staircase, Pearl thrust a bouquet into her hands, as if it was a terrible task she had been given to hold them for her. Narcissa fumbled with the flower arrangement, trying to decide which hand should grasp the stems, and which should wrap around her opposite hand. However, Pearl had grown impatient, and she shoved her through the gap of the open doorway and into the courtyard. She stumbled and gasped, though luckily the entire group had not noticed her yet. The few that saw had laughed and she blushed terribly.

Music struck, and Narcissa made her way hurriedly down the aisle. Bellatrix coordinated her colors as red and white, and the aisle was covered in red silk, which was slick, and it rumpled beneath her feet as she walked. Rodolphus was nervously staring at the doorway over her head, wringing his hands together. His brother, Rabastan, winked at her as she approached the wedding arch. She shot him the most disgusted look that she could muster before someone from _The Daily Prophet_ took a photograph of the beginning processions.

Pearl came next, smiling brilliantly. She walked in time to the music, which made her look quite foolish. When she neared the arch, she tripped just as the camera flashed again, and stunned, she took her place next to Narcissa. On the other side of Rabastan was Abraham Nott, who Narcissa was certain was only standing there per request of Pearl.

The music changed, shifting to a slower pace. The audience craned in their seats, and quickly jolted up from them as Bellatrix and her father came into view. They walked slowly down the aisle, so the guests could peer at the bride, though her sister's face was shrouded by her veil. Her mother came into view then, carrying her sister's train behind her. Her face was flushed, but clearly proud that nothing had gone entirely wrong.

Her father placed Bellatrix's hand in Rodolphus', and then he took his seat at the end of the front row. Her mother took the seat next to his. The Malfoy's were also seated in the front row, and Lady Malfoy leaned across her husband to congratulate Druella.

A squat wizard directed the wedding procession. Bellatrix and Rodolphus clasped hands and repeated vows that Narcissa found dull and conventional. Weddings among the pureblood families were strengthened in tradition and a strong foundation in non-magic, surprisingly, though she had never understood why. Perhaps because it was far more important to exemplify wealth than magical ability, though no one had told her. The vows carried on for another forty-five minutes. They were repetitive promises to the society, and each respective parent. The last vow was to one another and the future of bright, pureblood children. Then, the couple kneeled upon the red silk throw, and touched their wands together. Red sparks exploded out of each wand, which transformed into shooting flames that sailed into the air, and then turned into dozens of white doves, all of which soured upward, exploded, and flowers rained down upon them.

As Bellatrix and Rodolphus stood, so did the guests, and the wedding arch, chairs, and silk vanished and became astounding rows of circular tables, all with colossal ice sculptures winding upward in various design. Rose petals had been strewn across each table. The guests clapped and cheered happily. There were name cards with family coat of arms scrawled on each table, indicating the seating arrangement. Narcissa followed her mother to the largest table on the opposite end of courtyard. This table seated their family, the Malfoy's, and the Lestrange's. The table was round, and as her father took a seat, Abraxas took the one next to his. Narcissa quickly scanned the arrangement, dreading what she presumed would occur – perhaps had even purposefully been arranged so. Bellatrix sat next to Abraxas, and her mother took the place next to her. Lady Malfoy came next, and Narcissa sat beside her. Mr. Lestrange sat next to Cygnus, and Rabastan quickly filled the chair next to him, as Rodolphus had taken the seat opposite of Bellatrix. Mrs. Lestrange sat next to him, as she was clutching him and weeping, mumbling stories about Rodolphus as a child to anyone who was listening. The empty chair between Narcissa and Mrs. Lestrange confirmed what she knew was about to happen: the only place for Lucius Malfoy to sit was next to her.

She was furious, but hoping he would choose to take leave and hide upstairs somewhere, as he was renowned for. Though, undoubtedly, she would be sent to fetch him, which was perhaps worse than being seated next to him. Just before dinner was about to be served by the caterers, he swept up to the table casually, and pulled back his chair.

"Excuse my tardiness," He apologized. "I helped the Nott family find their table; they thought it was further from this table than it was…"

"My son is very charitable," Abraxas supplied to Mr. Lestrange, who nodded his head in approval. "Lucius, these are Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange, you're acquainted with their sons, Rodolphus and Rabastan."

"Pleasure," He responded breathlessly, with an easy and attractive smile.

Narcissa picked up her salad utensil and thought of stabbing him and wedging the solid silver fork deep into his flesh, but she knew her sister would just _never _forgive her for ruining her wedding, and Lady Malfoy might die of shock, given her poor health, and so she delicately placed it back onto the table, and grimaced.

Wine magically filled each of the flute glasses in front of them. Each one had Bellatrix and Rodolphus' initials on them, along with their respective family arms. Abraxas stood up once it had quieted some, and picked up his glass for a toast.

"Ahem," He cleared his throat, and what little chatter died down. "I am delighted, as I am sure all of you are, to have been a witness to the extraordinary event that has just taken place this wondrous afternoon. We celebrate together the marriage of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the finest couples among our society. I think I speak for all when I say that this is a most glorious day, a unified moment that should fill each of us with admiration for these two young people. May they have a blissful and rewarding marriage."

The guests clapped enthusiastically, and drank to Master Malfoy's toast. Her mother and father gave speeches soon after, followed by Pearl Parkinson, substituting the speech that Andromeda should have given. Finally, it was Narcissa's turn. She had not written anything for the speech, nor had she prepared. In fact, she had only been told that morning she was supposed to give one. Terrified, she stood up, and clutched the table for a moment to keep from swooning.

"I...I would like to congratulate my sister," She began, feeling immediately foolish. "And my new brother in law too, I guess."

The crowd erupted in small laughter, which made her more nervous rather than easing her pain. She couldn't be sure of what to say. That she and her sister were bitter enemies, that they spent their childhood fighting and tearing apart each other's things?

"I…Bellatrix is my eldest sister, and I have always grown up wanting to be like her," Narcissa almost rolled her eyes, but she contained herself. "But one cannot imitate my sister, nor can many be a match to her skill. She is a bright young witch, and today we witnessed the unity of perhaps the only other person in the world that can be her equal. So congratulations and love to my dear sister, and I welcome my new family with the same blessings."

She quickly sat in her seat, and took a drink from the wine in front of her to calm the spasms of nerves. The guests about her clapped politely, and their meals appeared upon their plates in front of them. Druella and Lady Malfoy were deeply involved in a conversation with Bellatrix. Both of the women were crying, and exchanging stories about the birth and childhood of her eldest sister. On the opposite side of the table, Master Malfoy, her father, and Mr. Lestrange were enveloped in a conversation about the newly elected Prime Minister. Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Lucius were avidly discussing memories from Hogwarts.

"Say, where is Regulus?" She heard Rabastan question. "Narcissa! Where is your cousin?"

"At home," She answered. "Aunt Walburga is ill, so they could not attend."

"Shame," He commented.

She returned to her meal, though she was still so nervous that she scarcely had an appetite. Lucius successfully ignored her, much to her relief, and so she finished what parts of her meal she could endure, and then she examined the ice sculpture in front of her speculatively. The one upon their table was a great oak tree, so intricately detailed that she could see the spirals from the bark etched into the ice. Even knots were carved into it, and upon the branches were tiny leaves, made to blow in the direction of the real wind by magic. She even saw an ice-carved squirrel carry a mouthful of tiny, iced acorns up the trunk of the tree and disappear into one of the knotholes and a robin perched on the end of a nest with tiny, chirping babies.

"We must dance!" Abraxas announced, as the meals were cleared.

Narcissa shook herself from her revere, having become lost in the design of the sculpture. She rose from her seat, as if going to join the rest of the table, but as they walked in front of her, she backtracked and turned to the tables again. Each had a different sculpture, and she wished to thoroughly examine them. She made it to the first table, where two dueling wizards were upon the center piece. There were lights in their eyes from the spells, though they were frozen. Their cloaks billowed around their feet, and their expressions changed from determined to terrified, suggesting when a spell was supposed to have been fired. The tips of the wands were emitting different colors, ranging from red, to yellow, to blue, and then green. She moved around each table for a better look at them. She wasn't the only one that had abandoned dancing to get a look at them, though mostly they were couples that were her parents' age, all of whom had no reason to dance with many partners in search of a spouse.

"Do you like them?" A voice called to her.

She turned to see Candra Zabini approaching her.

"Yes," She replied, her voice clipped.

"Come now, Cissy, it's a day of celebration," He drawled.

He strolled up to her with another flute full of wine, which he handed to her. She poured it onto the ground, and then threw it over the courtyard wall behind her.

"It wasn't poisoned, I swear," Candra replied.

Narcissa scoffed, and turned from him. The table she was at had a deadly looking cobra coiled upon it. Its icy mouth was open, emitting from it a foggy breath that dissipated within a few seconds of appearing. The eyes were encrusted with rubies, which glittered maliciously. She did not observe this for very long, and then she moved on.

"Really, now, you're going to be so cold," He followed her. "And on your sister's wedding, shame on you. I told you, Cissy. You're always _so _sad."

"Why don't you go dance with Mara?" Narcissa snapped. "You are so bothersome, Candra. Really, I cannot understand why anyone would want to be your acquaintance."

He smirked, "Possibly because I'm charming and handsome."

"I doubt that's the reason," Narcissa replied. "Maybe because they've no one better."

"Like yourself?"

She sighed, feeling an ache in her temple coming about because of his presence.

"_Come on_, Cissy, come dance with me," He demanded. "You've no one to dance with, obviously, and Mara claims she cannot dance because of some ailment to her ankle."

Narcissa turned from the ice sculpture she was inspecting and said, "She's turned her ankle?"

"Just as she was stepping off the train from school," He replied, sighing dramatically. "Now _I_ have no partner, and _you_ clearly have no partner…"

"Fine," She consented. "But just the one."

She tried to memorize what table she had left off at, so that she could come back afterward. He didn't escort her to the dance floor as was respectable, and so she let her arms rest at her side. They waited at the edge of the dance floor until the next song began, and then he took her by the elbow, and led her roughly into the midst of the other dancers. He practically wrenched her into place, and then he took his opposite of her. They danced with one another, the same dance where she had the unfortunate experience of choosing Master Malfoy at the Parkinson ball.

"So," He began. "Why aren't you dancing with Lucius?"

She passed Lady Malfoy and Abraxas, and she crossed over several more partners until she was certain that they could not hear.

"You _know _why, Candra," Narcissa responded. "Don't play daft."

"I would never," He remarked, grinning widely. "I'm just surprised you haven't found someone else, that's all."

"Why ever would I do that?" She asked him.

They met at the end, took hands, and spun one another, and then continued the figure eights down the line.

"Because clearly you accepted the proposal if you aren't engaged to someone else," He responded. "To reject a Malfoy is to reject them all, remember? I'm surprised you aren't already married by now."

"I hardly think that any of this is _your _business," Narcissa chastised. "And anyway, why would you be concerned? Are you a gossip?"

Candra laughed as the dance ended. They stepped to the side as a different dance began, and he pulled his fingers through hers, and poised their arms.

"Gossip, perhaps," He responded. "Or maybe I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," She reminded him.

He shrugged, and began to guide her through the steps across the dance floor.

"Satisfaction brought it back," He retorted. "So what is it, then, Black? Have you rejected him and found another that will still have you, or are you destined to be an old maid?"

Narcissa smiled and said, "An old maid, I guess."

"I envy you," He replied. "Although you could have accepted my proposal, I could have helped you."

She laughed haughtily. "Oh, dear. How terrible does Narcissa Zabini sound? A terrible name for a terrible marriage."

"My name will be more important than yours when this is all over," He replied coldly. "You'd do better married to me than no one."

"Well, regardless, I think I shall be quite fine, growing old all by myself."

"Don't forget homeless and starving," He replied, sneering.

"Still better than married to you," She stated.

He seemed less angry than he did prideful, and so she was not concerned that he would harm her. Sometimes she wondered if he teased her because he thought her pathetic or because she had told him no. Bellatrix had told her that sometimes men grew mad with love when women rejected them, but only because their pride was wounded, and something else had to take its place until it healed. She doubted Candra Zabini had gone mad, though she did think that perhaps he had been born that way.

"Let's get something to drink," He demanded, and took her by the arm as the song ended.

She let him drag her for some length, and then she wrenched her hand away, and walked across the courtyard. She wasn't his servant, certainly, and she would refuse to follow him about as if she was Mara. She was not his fiancée, he could not expect that to be proper of her. However, he seemed fit to follow _her, _and thus he did through the doorway.

"Candra, go away," She instructed, turning in the hallway between the courtyard door and the staircase.

"I want to ask you something," He announced.

"You've asked me enough!"

"No, this is different," Candra argued. "Your attention for five minutes, Narcissa, then I'll let you wander around the tables like a madwoman again."

Narcissa scowled. She wasn't a madwoman, merely interested in the sculptures. She crossed her arms across her chest and waited for him to ask her whatever it was she wanted. Narcissa was tired of him, frustrated beyond belief. A low, painful thud had begun in her head; the stress of him ailed her.

"Fine."

"May I kiss you?" He asked.

"_No_, Merlin's beard!" Narcissa exclaimed.

"_C'mon, _Cissy, just once," Candra argued. "Just one little wedding kiss, and I'll let you alone."

"You are engaged!"

"So are you," He shot back, narrowing his eyes. He stepped closer to her, away from eye sight from the door. "I _know, _Narcissa, and unless you want me to spoil your little secret…"

"What secret?" She argued, though her body had gone cold.

"You're secretly betrothed to Lucius," He replied, lowering his voice to a hiss. "I _know _because you rejected him, and you haven't been exiled from society. Your father struck a deal with Lucius' father, Narcissa. It's obvious. Anyone with half a brain…"

"So I suppose someone else had to tell you?" Narcissa retorted. "What are you playing at? You're blackmailing me?"

"Let me kiss you, and I'll keep your little secret," Candra told her dangerously. "If not, I'll tell everyone."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Tell them, then."

"They'll banish you," He said. "Malfoy's will pretend it never happened, you know that. But your family…"

"Okay," She caved in. "Fine…fine, but do it quickly."

He hungrily clutched her face and drew her in, kissing her strongly and forcefully. But he did so quickly, and then left her alone in the corridor. She was disgusted, with him and herself, and she remained in her place for a few moments before she returned to the wedding party. The guests were drunk enough that some had fallen asleep at the tables and the dancing was winding down to the last waltz of the evening. As she came upon the dance floor to watch, Master Malfoy saw her.

"Narcissa, my girl!" He stumbled toward her, clearly inebriated himself. Lady Malfoy was blushing from where he had left her, and judging by the sparkle in her eyes, it appeared she too was quite drunk. "Dance with my son, little one! I love to…love you watch you…dance with my son…it's the most…beautiful thing I've ever seen! Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

He clutched the front of her father's robe, who laughed delightedly with him. Her mother appeared to be the only one sober, and she was standing next to Lady Malfoy, looking cross.

"I'm not sure where he is, Master Malfoy," She offered.

"Lucius!" Abraxas called.

Lucius appeared from the crowd, and he came forward with a smile.

"Yes, Father?"

"Dance with Miss Black, would you?" He requested, waving his arms in the direction he thought she was in, though he was off by twelve or so feet.

"Of course, Sir," Lucius responded with prompt obedience, and he brought her to the third place in line, next to her parents. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had gone already, presumably on their way to Spain for their honeymoon.

The music began, and she immediately fell into the familiar formation. She felt quite morose, being so close to him and feeling how natural and comfortable she was with him still. She had been away from him enough that he felt a stranger, almost like the first time he had danced with her.

"You seem quite upset," Lucius commented, as he turned them about the dance floor. "Are you feeling all right?"

"It's…I," Narcissa wasn't sure if she could trust him, but she decided she should. "Candra knows, Lucius. He cornered me in the corridor after we danced, he…he…"

"Knows of what?" He asked, puzzled.

"Knows about _us,_" She whispered, just in case some of the guests they were passing couldn't hear. "He made me kiss him as a promise not to tell…"

"_What_?" Lucius stopped dancing in the middle of the floor, and dropped his hands. Several couples bumped into them as he did, and they meekly apologized, then spun on.

"I don't know how else to tell you what I just did," She replied. "He _knows_, and he blackmailed me by…"

Lucius seemed to realize they were standing still during the middle of the waltz, and even their parents had passed them by, perplexed by their antics. He glanced around, and then took her hands again, and waited for a space to open, and then they continued in the pattern. Once the dance stopped, he nodded to his father, and then took Narcissa by the elbow, and calmly escorted her off of the floor. People were staring, so they could not escape for privacy, but she thought they were staring because it was the first time they had danced since she had so openly rejected him. Suddenly she thought that perhaps they had all guessed the way Candra had.

He walked her to the refreshment table, as if she had requested it. Ceremoniously, he handed her a flute, and then took his own. They had grown quite good at acting, she noted.

"I'm sorry," She apologized. "I panicked, I guess, I…"

"Where is he?" Lucius asked, scanning the crowds of people. "No doubt hiding, since I caused a scene…"

"What shall we do?" She whispered.

"My family stays behind after the other guests leave," He said. "It will be easy to address the issue with our parents then. I cannot say what they will decide."

"And if he has?"

"The community might balk at our announcement," Lucius sighed. "Though that's doubtful…however, we want minimal scandal."

Narcissa was surprised at how easily she was no longer angered with him. As if he was some sort of savior! She scoffed at herself. How _easy _it was to align herself with him indeed, when she wanted him to sort out one of her problems. Although, she thought perhaps he was also the cause of all of her problems, so he might as well carry the burden of fixing them.

"What shall we do in the meantime?" She questioned, as she finished her glass of wine, and replaced in on the table. It cleaned itself and then refilled.

Lucius set his own glass down and replied, "We find Candra."

He took her arm as they walked back to the dance floor. They slipped back into the movements, and she wondered at first why he didn't simply search for him, but she glanced up at his face and found him subtly searching across the many faces among the guests, and so she too decided to look herself, and found that if she focused enough, it was quite easy to adjust, and see individuals instead of swirls upon swirls of color and movement. She spotted Pearl and Abraham off in the corner, standing near the courtyard wall—and then they were gone, and she looked upon another couple, more faces, and various sized people. But she saw nothing of Candra, as if he had disappeared entirely, and she thought perhaps he had gone inside to hide…

"He's upstairs," Lucius stopped her mid-turn, and began swiftly parting through the groups of people, all of whom stared at him in wonder, and she lifted her skirts so that she could hurry after him.

"Lucius!" She hissed, as she stumbled in through the doors.

He stopped mid-way upon the staircase. Suddenly she felt quite ill and dizzy. Had she been poisoned after all? Lucius came back to her, looking suddenly concerned.

"Are you all right?" He asked, again, and it felt like he had asked that over and over.

"No, I feel sick," She muttered. "Woozy and hot, and my vision…I thought it was all blurry during dancing, but I don't think…"

He laughed, "Oh, you've had too much to drink, that's all."

"Have I?" Narcissa asked, tilting her head. "Well, yes, then, it does seem quite true…"

"Come along," Lucius replied, offering his hand out to her.

She slipped her fingers through his, and took the stairs with him as quickly as he was guiding, although it made her horribly dizzy to do so.

"How do you know he's upstairs?" She asked.

"I saw him in a window…" Lucius murmured, slowing as they came to the staircase leading to the third floor. "_Lumos!_"

The tip of his wand ignited a bright light, illuminating the walls. The portraits were sleeping soundly, though some were startled by the light.

"Isn't that _pretty_," Narcissa commented and reached out to touch the little light, but Lucius took her by the hand again, and went up the next staircase.

Upstairs, the portraits were in an uproar, shouting at one another vehemently. Narcissa let go of his hand, and glanced around at the various conversations, attempting to listen to particular ones, but she couldn't. Lucius was still, as if he could hear and see in all directions at once. Slowly, she braced herself against the wall with her shoulder and guided herself so that she could see his face.

The portraits grew quiet upon noticing their arrival. She supposed her sight would silence them, if they thought a burglar was about, that she would either fix it, or be killed. Or perhaps it was Lucius who silenced them, as if having a Malfoy in their midst was a great achievement. Bastards. She wondered which ones were blood traitors, sympathizers, as they called it.

"Why aren't we doing anything?" Narcissa whispered, since she figured it was necessary to be quiet.

"We're waiting," Lucius replied at a normal level.

She heard a thump come from Andromeda's room, and Lucius took her by the hand again, and they walked forward together. He stopped just before the door, and glanced at her for a moment, shrugged, and opened the door. Candra sat in the chair that Andy once had, next to her bookshelf where there were still books upon it. Her wardrobe closet was opened, full of her dress robes. The bed was still crumpled where her head had once lain.

"You like the quiet too, do you?" Candra asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "Or maybe you're just looking for a spare room…so this is where you two run off to at every party."

"I don't think _every_ party is held at the Black residency, Zabini, that would be quite impossible," He replied. "And…stressful, I would imagine."

Candra sighed, "Always with the logistics. Well, I s'pose you came in here to defend your precious Narcissa, haven't you?"

"No," Lucius replied.

"What?" Candra asked, smirking. "You think I would believe that, Malfoy? I kissed your girl."

"Right, I think this has already happened," Lucius responded. "The part where you tell me that you've had an affair with Narcissa, and then kiss or, or proclaim to kiss her in this case, to rile me up…the problem is, I'm not interested in whether or not you've kissed her, because you have done this one already, Candra."

Candra looked a little disappointed, but she wasn't sure if that was supposed to be for effect or not.

"Then what do you want?"

"Information," Lucius replied.

"You've already got loads of that, from what they tell me," Candra said. "Why d'you need mine too?"

"Because you asked Narcissa that morning before Hogsmeade if she had a secret engagement," He answered. "You knew before she did, and you used it against her after you discovered she must have known. Now what I want to know is who told you."

"I guessed," Candra replied.

"You…guessed."

"That's right."

"I don't believe you," Lucius stated. "How do you _guess _before the information was even available?"

"Because she said _no_, Malfoy!" Candra exclaimed. "You say she didn't know, but she rejected me. So I thought maybe there was a reason a girl in her position would say no—could _even_ say no, but I assumed she was stupid and went on."

"Get to the part where you discover the truth and then blackmail her with it," Lucius replied.

"Wait it out, Malfoy, it's a good story," He responded. "As I was saying, I assumed she was stupid, but I was still suspicious. So I watched. Few nights after school started, I watched you leave the common room after midnight, and then a few hours later, here comes Narcissa down the stairs, and out the common room. I tipped off Regulus, who waited, and then I stayed up to listen to the both of you come in together. Narcissa goes up the stairs, you stayed downstairs."

"That's too much of a leap…"

"Shut it, Malfoy, it's my story, and it's a damned fine one, it is, so let me tell it," Candra warned. "I hear Regulus ask you if Narcissa is really the girl you want, and you said yes. That's not out of the ordinary, of course. I thought perhaps the two of you were snogging in a broom shed at night or something. But then I decided to test my theory, branch out a bit. I asked Narcissa to marry me. Her rejection proved everything, I've known since then."

"But _I _didn't know," Narcissa argued.

"Then you are really that stupid," Candra said, shrugging. "Anyway, I figured it out on my own. I have no other source, Malfoy, nothing interesting for you to go sticking your business in, like the incident with the Gryffindors…"

Candra stood up from the chair, and walked past Lucius. His hand reached the door knob when Lucius called out again.

"One last question," He said. "Who have you told?"

Candra turned around, and laughed. "Someone, no one, everyone."

"Names would be preferable," Lucius replied.

His back was still to Candra, and he was speaking with his head turned to the side. Narcissa wondered how he could feel at ease, to have his back turned to someone that was a threat.

"I don't remember," He replied mockingly.

"You don't remember…" Lucius trailed off, and then turned around. "You should start."

"I'm telling you, I don't remember," Candra said. "It's the wine, does terrible things me, see…"

Lucius slammed him against the door. Narcissa jumped, startled by the noise and the suddenly movement—she had been concentrating on not falling to pieces, mostly. Lucius's wand was pointed at Candra's throat, and his opposite arm was across the upper part of his chest.

"Tell me the _truth, _Zabini," He warned.

Candra seemed more nervous than before, yet still not terribly afflicted by the situation, as if it were a normal occurrence. Apparently being threatened was not something he was unfamiliar with, which didn't surprise Narcissa. He was a bit of a weasel, as he clearly indicated.

"That was the truth, Malfoy; I don't have anything else…"

"You _do _have more, Candra, and I know it," Lucius interrupted. "You are clever, I'll give you that, but not enough to guess a secret engagement. Furthermore, Regulus left the common room with _me,_ so how you managed to tip him off is impossible, isn't it?"

"I found him, I did…"

"No, you didn't," He replied. "I was a Prefect, Candra. I was patrolling with Regulus on the grounds for First Years that always try to sneak off into the Forbidden Forest. Regulus and I were by the Herbology greenhouses when we saw Narcissa come out of the door. I told Regulus to keep patrol, and I would tell her to go back inside."

Candra opened his mouth to protest, but it was clear that Lucius wasn't having anymore of his stories.

"Regulus went back inside before I left, and when we came back in he joked that he should have given us detention," He said. "As Narcissa went up the stairs, he did not, in fact, ask me if I wanted to marry her, Candra, he asked a very simple question, and that was if he thought it wise for her to be seen with me before Bellatrix was married, because she would be jealous and might try to destroy her sister's reputation. _That_ was the conversation you overheard."

"Well, it's been a long time, you know, I might have forgotten…"

"Someone told you," Lucius interjected. "And you've told someone."

He finally nodded, as if he had given up his charade.

"Fine, Malfoy, I'll tell you," Candra replied. "It was Bellatrix."

"My _sister_?"

"Your parents told her after she broke off her first engagement," He said. "Bellatrix was angry, she let it slip that your parents were in secret negotiations to wed you off to Lucius. She said she didn't know if it had already happened yet, but that it would, eventually, if they could prove that you were just as worthy as she was for him. After she said that, I noticed the two of you—you weren't a secretive lot—anyway, _I _did guess, Bellatrix just helped me."

"So who knows?" Lucius asked. "How many people heard her?"

"Five, six people," Candra replied. "Pearl Parkinson, Abraham Nott, me, Regulus Black I would imagine, Severus Snape. Maybe someone else, I'm not sure."

Lucius let go of him. Before he could ask anything else, however, Candra opened the door and fled. He sighed heavily, and turned back to Narcissa. She wasn't sure if their knowing was such a bad thing, although undoubtedly now more people knew, which would spread and spread…the urgency of the situation was heightened, yet she was unsure of the real threat. What could they say? How could they reject the engagement? People had secret engagements all of the time, it was not so unlikely that they have one. Of course, perhaps the true problem of the matter was the fact that they had allowed Lucius to interact with other suitors, and the society would feel quite foolish, trying to prepare their daughters for a losing situation.

"What are we to do now?" Narcissa asked.

"I think our best option would be to wait for the decisions of our parents," He replied.

She wondered then if he was as brave and capable as she always assumed he was. She thought he had been more than able to deal with Candra, and so she had gone to him without even considering that her father might have known a better solution. But what could her father decide, exactly? Would he betray her for the "right" thing again? And her mother, she would brush her off and tell her not to be bothered by Candra Zabini, who was hardly fit to associate with her let alone scare her.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her.

"Dizzy," She replied.

"Perhaps we should go back downstairs," Lucius said, looking serious, but his voice was near the edge of a laugh.

He took her by the elbow, and led her from the room. The corridor was quiet now, whatever disturbance the portraits had been upset over was clearly not an issue now, and they were at last slumbering softly.

"I am glad that you came to me," Lucius said, after a few moments of silence. "I thought perhaps you had chosen to never speak to me again…"

"You were the only person I could think of," Narcissa responded.

They came down the staircase onto the second floor, and he stopped as they came to the last step.

"I know that you might never forgive me, and I deserve that," He said. "I lied to you and betrayed our friendship. I should have told you the moment that I saw you in the garden, I should have, but I wasn't the same person then, and I hope you can understand that. I made a mistake that I would not make if given the same choice now…I just want you to know that I will always be whatever it is you need me to be…your friend…your husband. I don't know if you will ever love me, Narcissa, but…"

He stopped, glancing down at his lit wand, and then decided against continuing whatever it was he had been meaning to say, and he took her arm. She wasn't sure how to reply, what to say. Certainly, he had expressed some of the same sentiments in a letter…the same letters she threw away and never bothered to even answer to. Did she get everything wrong? Narcissa had considered that notion, though it seemed difficult to even address. It was possible that it was her fault entirely, and she had spent her time being angry at a man that had done nothing but lie as instructed by his parents. Would she not have done the very same? She wondered if she was so cruel, then. She could barely find it in herself to be angry with him now, but something inside of her said she should still be, because who could she trust but herself?

They came into the foyer just as her parents and his were leading the guests to the door. Luckily, they stepped up next to them, and so it appeared that they had never left at all. Lucius leaned over to his father and whispered something. She watched Master Malfoy's expression, to see if it changed at all, but his welcoming smile remained on his face. His eyes grew colder, however, and for a brief moment, he did turn to look at Lucius, whose expression was serious. He nodded curtly, and then Lucius slipped back to his place next to her. She curtseyed and wobbled to the guests that came past, most of whom were too drunk to notice that she was doing a terrible job of it. After they had all dispersed, her parents glanced quizzically at Lucius and Narcissa.

"Where have you two been?" Her father asked suspiciously.

"Apparently discovering unpleasant news," Abraxas responded. "Go on, Lucius. Tell him."

"Yes, sir," He replied quickly. "Candra Zabini tried to blackmail Narcissa this evening. He knows about our engagement, and apparently others do as well."

"How?" Cygnus asked. "We've not released any kind of information."

"Bellatrix apparently told five people, Candra gave some names, but I suspect he wasn't telling me everything, considering how long it took me to get him to reveal the names in the first place," Lucius said. "According to him, Bellatrix was only speaking hypothetically, and possibly just after the arrangement was made…she would have had no idea that there was actual truth to what she was saying."

Cygnus sighed, and glanced over at Druella, as if it were somehow her fault that her prized daughter had caused such a problem.

"I think the best option we have is to announce it as soon as possible," Abraxas recommended.

"How shall we do that?" Master Black questioned. "There's not another ball between us that would be proper to announce this magnitude of an engagement."

"We will simply reschedule the summer ball at my manor," Abraxas said.

A gasp came from everyone, and to Narcissa's surprise, even herself. The summer ball was a historical event, one that had occurred on the same date every year for centuries. It was a celebration of Armand Malfoy who came to England with William the Conqueror. It could not be shifted, to do so would possibly set the society in a state of shock.

"We cannot…"

"I think it would be a wonderful idea," Abraxas interrupted. "We would possibly insult the Nott family, they're festivities will have to be cancelled…but I am certain that the arrangements can be made."

"Why couldn't you have an announcement ball, and then the summer ball?" Cygnus persisted. "Abraxas, this kind of even cannot be taken lightly…"

"Oh, of course not, which is why we must have the engagement announced at our summer ball," He said. "No Malfoy has ever had his announcement made at any other party; it _must _be the summer ball. And because we need to make haste, we'll change the dates! It's as simple as that."

"We cannot possibly justify that; everyone will think Narcissa is somehow ill-fit for it if we are rushing the engagement process…"

"Nonsense, I'll simply say that we could not have it arranged on the proper historical date," He said. "Or we could place a memory charm on them; make them think it is the correct date…"

"You're mad," Her father responded.

"Then it's settled," Abraxas said, appearing quite jovial, "I'll send out the notices."

"Abraxas, I think you should consider this…"

"Let's discuss it now, then," He gestured toward the parlor.

Narcissa thought he was drunk, although she couldn't tell completely. Would he not have to be to suggest moving the date of the ball? She watched her father sigh, but turn and walk him to the parlor. Her mother and Lady Malfoy, both looking tired, retreated to the courtyard, possibly to inspect the sculptures that they had not before. She was left alone in the foyer with Lucius, a most unusual and somewhat surprising occurrence. Her parents would not have allowed such a thing if they were not preoccupied or ailed by something else.

"I have an idea," Lucius murmured, quietly enough to be certain neither of their parents could listen.

"Not an Unbreakable Vow?" Narcissa asked, turning her head to him.

"No," He said, narrowing his eyes at her for a moment. "That wasn't a terrible plan, Narcissa…anyway, something much simpler."

"What is that?"

"Pretend you love me again," Lucius said. "If they think you're obeying, you can ask for more…"

Narcissa was just about to protest, when she heard the parlor door open. Before she could turn to her father and his, Lucius wrapped both of his hands around her wrists and kissed her so gently she could only just feel the warmth of his lips against her own. She shoved him backward, about to ask him what he was playing at, and how utterly humiliated she was, being kissed in front of her father, when Abraxas's laughter made her hold her tongue.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt, children," He said, as their mothers approached them with confused expressions. "Come along, Lucius, we have much to prepare for in the morning…lots of owls to send!"

"Abraxas, this is still a mistake," Her father warned. "Malfoy's are only invincible until they begin changing tradition…this is a society based upon centuries of rules."

"Nonsense, they'll be overjoyed!" He took Lady Malfoy by the arm.

"Abraxas…"

Lucius kissed her again. She thought he might have been trying to hide it from their parents, but then she noticed he had instead been trying to time it perfectly so that one of them _would_ see—it was Abraxas who turned at just the right moment.

"There will be ample opportunity to spend time with Narcissa, Son," Master Malfoy said, as he stepped from the foyer and into the doorway. "Especially when you are married!"

He seemed pleased by that notion, as Lucius followed behind him. Her father shut the door with a frustrated sigh, and wordlessly, climbed the staircase. Her mother folded her arms across her chest, and glanced over at her youngest daughter.

"I've just finished planning a wedding," She complained. "And now I must begin another. I hope you don't decide to go back to Hogwarts, it makes everything much more difficult…"

With that, she too climbed the stairs, leaving Narcissa alone in the brightly lit foyer.


	14. Chapter 14

"_Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue._

_In a drafty museum, your nakedness._

_Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls."_

_Morning Song_ by Sylvia Plath

The letter came that morning.

The emptiness of the house was boldly apparent. Her eldest sister must have filled the majority of the house with her person and things, for the place seemed dim, the corridors stifled. The door across from her bedroom chambers did not slam, did not even open. The stillness choked her, blinded her. She stepped on the ghosts on the stairs, walked through the cobwebs in the courtyard. All these things must have been repelled by Bellatrix, and in her absence, they rose. Took over and left everything in darkness.

Her mother cried often, as if she had erred some way by letting her daughter go. She swooned upon the fainting seats at the window; ones that had never been used by anyone, for the Blacks were not weak people, but sturdy and proud.

The letter came that morning, as they sat mostly silent in the parlor for breakfast. It had not been carried by owl, however. There was a knock on the door, and her father left to receive it. He did not say from whom he took the letter, but he held a cross expression when he returned to them.

"_To the esteemed Black family_," He read. "_Please forgive whatever grievance this letter may cause, but the Malfoy family has been forced to rearrange the annual summer ball, which celebrates a most wondrous and historical occasion of our ancestor, Armand Malfoy and his triumph with William the Conqueror, to an earlier date. We regret to inform the Nott family that we are rescheduling on the date of their festivities, in which case, the annual summer ball will be held next weekend. In an attempt to restore our family name in good favor to you, we will be announcing news that we are sure will excite and bring good fortune to the entire community. Our apologies and blessing, The Malfoy family." _

Her father crumpled the letter. She watched the Malfoy seal twist and disfigure, and then he tossed it into the fire. She and her parents watched it turn to ash before speaking again.

"I cannot believe him," Her father remarked scathingly. "Ruin the whole community, he will…"

He discarded his breakfast and hurried from the parlor. She heard the door in the foyer open and close again, and she looked up at her mother, who seemed disinterested by the events that had just occurred.

"Well, I suppose the summer ball will be next weekend," She commented, frowning. "That gives us little time to find you proper dress robes for such an occasion."

"Dress robes?" Narcissa asked. "I thought I had many that were acceptable."

"Engagement announcements require something much more elaborate," Her mother explained. "We'll go this afternoon, I suppose. We might find a seamstress that will take on the task with such short notice, although I heard the one we used for Bellatrix's wedding has relocated to Germany…"

Narcissa finished her tea, and she went to the courtyard for what remaining time she had before her mother called for her. She had not been a part of Bellatrix's engagement processes. For one, her engagement to Lucius had been announced in her childhood, and thus there had been no need for certain procedures, but her announcement to Rodolphus had been a tedious endeavor, one Narcissa could not recall, but it had seemed rather hapless in its announcement, a sloppy cover up for the mistake that had been made. She almost wondered if her announcement would be the same way somehow, filled with guilt and shame. Narcissa was not certain she could smile at the people judging her the way Bellatrix had.

She and her mother left for Diagon Alley before her father had returned from the Malfoy's home. They used the Floo network from the parlor, because her mother said she had never trusted side-along Apparition. The market was bustling when they arrived, full of young children with their parents, running about the cobblestone streets. Narcissa followed her mother closely, taking care to skirt past the children that stared up at her with large, round eyes. Her mother opened the door to Madam Malkin's, apparently the one seamstress that had not been a victim of her mother or Bellatrix.

"Hello," Madam Malkin greeted from a wide mirror, where she was adjusting the length of a woman's robes. "What will you need?"

"We've a small situation," Druella stated, the corners of her lips turning into an acidic smile. "I need proper dress robes for my daughter, we're announcing her engagement…"

"She seems terribly young to be engaged," The woman remarked.

"That," Her mother snapped, "isn't any of your business. Can you complete the task or not?"

She peered at Narcissa for a long moment, and then said, "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Something elaborate, but tasteful," Her mother explained. "She looks best in blue, but white is the tradition."

"When will you need it?" Madam Malkin asked, still watching Narcissa curiously.

"Next week," Her mother said.

The woman laughed coldly. Narcissa understood how preposterous her mother seemed. Clearly, her mother knew that this would occur eventually, so it surprised her that her mother had not planned beforehand. Perhaps it couldn't be done that way, she wasn't certain.

"I can't do that…"

"We'll pay thrice what it's worth," Her mother interrupted. "She's going to be betrothed to Lucius Malfoy, this is a very serious matter."

The woman's eyes widened, and she quickly finished with her wand what she had been previously doing by hand on the other witch, who did not seem to understand the urgency that the proprietor did, for she watched them without much interest.

"I see," She stated. "Right, of course, we'll start now."

One of her assistants approached the other witch in the room to tend to her. Two other assistants guided Narcissa to the back section of the shop, where the largest station of mirrors was. Cloth measures snapped around her, measuring her arms, waist, and hips. The assistants quickly scribbled her numbers down with a quill and parchment that was floating just above their heads. She felt like a fool for the most part. Her mother had always taken her measurements and then chose her dress robes for her. She did not feel it was necessary for her to be here now, though she supposed it was possibly a tradition that she knew not of.

Afterward, she sat in a chair at the front of the shop, watching parents pulling their children along by the hand. Some were not as happy as others, most notably were the families like hers—noble and esteemed—that were straight-faced and uncomfortable. She glanced over to Madam Malkin and her mother, who were choosing fabric and designs. It frightened her, she realized, as she sat in a shop waiting on the arrangements for her engagement robes. It had not quite become apparent that she was betrothed, that everything her society would let her amount to was about to occur, all at once. All of her wildest dreams and nightmares colliding at once.

Her mother whisked her away after the arrangements were made, and together they briskly walked the cobblestone streets. Narcissa looked in through each of the windows, noting that she would never come back for school books or a uniform. Her childhood was gone, and no matter her efforts, she knew she would not be able to latch onto it or keep it safe.

The morning of the announcement, her mother woke her up before sunrise. She snatched her bed hangings back and tore off her blankets, and pulled her out of bed.

"Get up, Narcissa, we've a long day to prepare!" She shouted, and pushed her from her bedroom chamber.

She was groggy, and her mother pushed her along to the end of the hall. In the bathroom, her mother had already drawn a bath for her. She could smell the perfumes from the rich soaps from across the room. Her mother swirled her wand cross the tub, and a jet of dark blue soap poured from it, swirling into the water. The water itself became a luxurious purple, and hesitantly, Narcissa began to pull off her night dress. Her mother gave her privacy after this, and she timidly sank her body into the heavy mixture. She felt so fatigued that she was quite afraid she would drown herself by accident.

The soap began bubbling and frothing over her, washing her body for her. She sank further into the warm water. She pulled her hair from the braid she wove nightly, and a tingling went across her scalp, weaving in and out of her hair. Her muscles were immediately relaxed, and she floated in euphoric bliss. Her brain was full of puffs of clouds, and she stayed there until the sun began to peek into the window, shining happy rays across the floor.

Druella burst through the door then, towel in hand.

"Out," She ordered.

"But it's…"

"Get _out_," Druella commanded.

She pulled out her wand, and the soap dispersed, leaving cold and murky water. Narcissa was shook from whatever had hold of her. Chills rose along her, and she wrapped the towel around her body, which suddenly felt heavy. She crept behind her mother, teeth chattering, down the stairs. Her mother led her into the parlor, where the curtains were drawn. Madam Malkin and her assistants were standing on the right side of the room. A space had been cleared in the middle with mirrors.

Her mother pulled the towel from her and wrapped it securely around her head. Timidly, she stood naked in front of the many women, who saw no apparent need to look away from her body, which was hardly developed as a woman yet. Her mother gave her a robe slip to pull over herself, and then she opened a new box. In it was a flesh colored corset, wrapped in gift paper. Narcissa let out a small shriek. Andromeda and Bellatrix had been allowed to wear such garments, but she had always been far too young. The corset was fully fitted about her hips, and snuggly snapped onto the stockings her mother instructed her to wear.

The first lace restricted so much of her breathing that she had immediate reactions, and she nearly fainted. The next was worse, and by the end of it, she could only manage two or three short breaths before she nearly swooned.

"Moth…" Narcissa's vision went black for a moment. "Mother, I…I can't."

"This is the only one you'll have to wear like this," Druella said. "After tonight, they'll be laced much differently. But they _must _be worn this way tonight."

She placed her in a chair, and pulled the towel from her head. Her mother waved her wand along her strands of hair. Her hair dried in her hands. The tasking job of brushing the tangles came next, but her mother did so magically, and Narcissa rested in the chair, trying to catch her breath, while a brush carefully stroked through her hair. In the time that it took for her hair to be smoothed, her mother had gone and dressed herself for tonight's occasion.

Her hair was neatly braided, and folded along her head with an elegantly adorned hairnet. Pearls were sewn into the hair piece along the thread, where it crossed from one square to the other. Her mother wrapped a wide braid around her forehead, tucking the ends of them behind the hair piece at the back of her head. Finally, her mother took her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. The assistants held her arms securely while Madam Malkin sewed her into the dress robes, taking extra care to sew the fabric to her corset. It was tradition, as she explained, for newly betrothed women to have their clothes sewn to each layer of fabric they wore, for it made it more difficult for her new fiancé to convince her to take them off.

"Drink this," Her mother instructed, pushing a vial of something between her lips, and tipping it before she could protest.

The same euphoria she had experienced in the bath came back to her, rolling down across her body and up again. She could feel no discomfort from the corset, nor did she feel as if she really needed to breathe at all.

They dressed her in lovely silk robes, a slightly creamy off-white, with long straight sleeves that ended at her wrist, and billowing sleeves at the elbow that fell to nearly the end of the robes themselves. The dress robes were off the shoulder, revealing her neck and a bust she did not naturally have.

"Oh, my," Madam Malkin murmured, placing a hand over her mouth as she looked at Narcissa in the mirror.

Her mother was still displeased. She opened another box, and secured a thin chain around her waist. She extended a train of fabric from the back of her dress. Madam Malkin added bands at the elbow, where the two fabrics separated for decoration, so that the shoulder pieces were puffed.

"Drink more, Narcissa," Her mother instructed, handing her another vial of the bliss she had been consuming.

She successfully passed out into Madam Malkin's arms.

Narcissa woke, somewhat groggily. She discovered herself in the carriage, seated across from her mother and father. Her legs, which she could not feel, were neatly upon the carriage bench, where she realized she was lying down across, with pillows propping up her head and feet.

"W-what?" She tried to sit up, but the corset kept her from moving.

"We're nearly there," Her father said, looking somewhat apprehensively at her, as though she was a stranger.

"I've done you a favor, Cissy," Druella said. "Your sister insisted on being conscious for the entirety of the day and night…it's excruciating."

For the first time that she had ever experienced, they arrived last. The gates at the Malfoy manor opened for them, creaking slowly, and they came into the rounded driveway, where carriages had been placed off to the side in a row, empty and waiting. It was nearly seven in the evening, and it seemed remarkable to her that she had begun preparing nearly thirteen hours ago, and yet she could hardly remember the process being more than an hour.

Her father helped her from the carriage, and her mother pulled her along the rest of the way, for her legs were still numb, and walking was nearly impossible. Instead of the entire family, it was only Lucius at the door waiting for them.

"Mother and father are just about to make the announcement," He said.

"How long?" Cygnus asked.

"Five or so minutes," Lucius replied.

Druella scowled. "She's not come out of it yet, we need longer than that."

Lucius pulled from the inside of his robes a tiny vial.

"Try this," He said. "Father made it just in case."

Quickly, they went into Lady Malfoy's parlor. Since men were barred from entrance, her father and Lucius went into the ballroom. Her mother opened her lips and Narcissa quickly drank the thick, oozing liquid that came from the vial. Immediately, she regained feeling in her arms and legs, and the clouds in her head cleared up. What was left was the rasping pain from the corset.

"Excellent!" Druella cried, upon noticing the change. "Hurry, we must go immediately."

A door had appeared at the other end of the room as they approached it, wedged in between a shelf full of photographs and trinkets and a bookcase. Her mother opened the door, and swiftly exited it. They came out on the side of the raised platform where Lady Malfoy sat to watch the dances, where Abraxas was currently standing, and trying to quiet the guests.

"As you all have been anticipating, I'm sure," He began. The last of conversation died. "I have for you very important news."

Lucius and her father appeared in front of the crowd, and Lucius stood next to his mother, who seemed very nervous.

"Tonight, I am proud and honored to have all of you here," Abraxas said. "For centuries, the Malfoy family has prospered here in Wiltshire. Generations of noble men have taken this oath to our society, to protect it, to keep it pure and rich in magic, as it should be.

"It is my greatest pleasure, I am truly humbled, that we have had many centuries of peace between us, to laugh, to drink, to dance. To have children and spread our knowledge. So it comes as to no surprise to you here, tonight, on this wonderful occasion, that we are gathered here for a particular reason," He said. "I have changed this historical date for the first time in eleven centuries because I simply could not wait to tell my fine friends, my esteemed guests, who are all so dear to me and my family. It is a great honor to announce that we have finally selected a bride for my son, Lucius Malfoy."

The crowd erupted in cheers. Her mother nervously clenched her shoulder, digging her nails so hard into her skin that she was sure she could draw blood if she wished.

"Please don't let him double cross us," Her mother breathed, sounding near tears.

"How could he?" Narcissa asked, mildly surprised.

"We're the only ones to lose, Cissy," Druella explained. "We signed a contract that you would wed Lucius, not that he would wed you…Abraxas was free to choose another bride _and _have our property."

"Why wouldn't you sign one against him?" Narcissa hissed.

Her mother hushed her, and clutched her hand.

"I remember the very moment my son was born," Abraxas stated. "It was such a day of celebration. A beautiful, perfect son! How could I be luckier? We have all watched Lucius grow into the fine young man that he is today, and it was very difficult to choose a wife that would honor and nurture the skills he possesses."

Lucius stepped in front of her. Her mother whispered frantic directions she couldn't hear to her. There was some applause and polite laughter, but Narcissa was feeling somewhat ill.

"It was a difficult and trying process. We searched in various countries, but the best choice was one from here in this great country," He said. "And now, without further hesitation, I thank you for your patience, I would like to announce that the bride we have chosen for my son is…"

"Oh, get on with it," Her mother hissed.

"A wonderful young girl with great beauty and intellect," He continued, "Miss Narcissa Black."

Her mother shoved her forward from the tiny alcove, and she half-stumbled across the floor, barely unable to walk. Lucius had closed a significant gap between them, and so he easily steadied her as she met him and wrapped her arm through his. There were photographers, she suddenly noticed. _Daily Prophet_ members scribbling on parchments, and she wondered for a moment if they had even been invited. Lucius guided her over to his father, and they stood in front of the guests, who were vehemently cheering and clapping, although she thought perhaps they were doing so out of respect.

Lucius whispered into her ear, "I'm sorry."

She glanced at him quizzically, but he had turned from her again, and his expression was one of polite happiness and ease. Abraxas calmed the guests down, and spoke at length (another twenty-five minutes) about the engagement process and the goals of the marriage. Narcissa could scarcely focus on anything, and she felt restless. Mostly, she wanted to claw her way out of the gown she was in. Shred it into pieces and never wear anything like it again.

As tradition, Lucius and Narcissa danced immediately after Master Malfoy's announcement. The dance was one she had seen on rare occasions, but just the same she could follow well enough. She was restricted by her under garments, which was perhaps why the dance required little of her and much of Lucius. If she could breathe, she knew she would have been angry, terrorized that this moment was happening. But her mother had given her potions and secured her in a garment that didn't enable movement for a reason, and so she was docile.

She supposed all of her dreams were coming true now.

The potion had begun to wear off within the hours that crept upon them. She slipped away from the guests, a difficult feat, but it was impossible to escape from Lucius, who had been keeping her at his side for most of the evening. As such, when she left the ballroom, he followed her at a distance.

She opened the doors to the garden. The spells had vanished from Christmas, but the plants were nevertheless thriving and the design they had created was the same. There were guests milling about, given that the weather was warm enough. She tottered along, slowly learning the proper method of breathing and then stepping. Doing both at the same time made her swoon, but she could calculate one after the other fairly safely without looking foolish.

The fountain was spritzing merrily. _If_ a fountain could experience happiness, she wasn't sure. Narcissa touched the smooth marble stone, the place where she had sat just last summer. Hadn't she wished to be a part of this world? Hadn't she yearned for someone to take notice of her? She felt just as lonely as before, looking upon the splendor. This time, when she turned to peer into the wide windows full of the brightly lit ballroom and the swirling partners, it seemed less an image of wonder and more one of shame.

"The first time I met you, you were Bellatrix Black's little sister," Lucius commented, as he approached her. "Here, in this very spot."

Narcissa crossed her arms. "And the first time I met you, in this very spot, you were Lucius Malfoy. Not so much as changed."

"No," He laughed, "I suppose not. You were cold to me then, do you remember? Turned your chin up at me and said, '_Hello, Mr. Malfoy_', like you weren't a bit interested in me or anyone else."

"I wasn't," She replied, "I'm still not."

"I never expressed how I felt about our first encounter," He said, "maybe it isn't important now. But from that very moment you treated me like no one else ever did or ever will, Narcissa, and that means something to me."

She turned to face him. "How do I treat you?"

"Like an equal."

Narcissa looked at the clusters of people in the garden, some in groups of five drinking, and other in couples walking about the perimeter, stealing kisses when they thought no one would take notice. She thought that, even if their interactions would have been different, they would not have been any of these people. Lucius Malfoy would not kiss her when he thought no one was looking—it was too dangerous, too romantic. He would take her through winding hidden passages in his manor, dance with her in the clearing of the woods, but they had never been a couple capable of affection that wasn't hidden, secluded and kept away from not only others, but themselves too.

She was fifteen. Couldn't she love someone else? She thought she should have the option, falling in love and then out of love with many others. Was it arrogance now, as she saw the other guests together, that she nearly considered that their contract was not worthy of her? Was she rejecting Lucius Malfoy because she found him inferior, or merely because he stood in her way? Narcissa grew tired of the questions that plagued her; worse, she grew tired of her elaborate gown and corset.

Loving him was all that she had left. There was no room for anyone else for all the space he took up. She thought if she could stay from him long enough that he would eventually turn into a stranger, a cold husband in a cold house for all eternity. The summer air was heavy with the weight of everlasting love. And gloom.

"This must be a really horrid day for you," Lucius murmured, "the worst?"

"No," Narcissa answered, suppressing tears, "this is not the worst."

Her worst day fell between Andromeda's escape and her own heartbreak in Hogsmeade—days that seemed impossible, yet had so deeply wounded her.

"I want to make you happy," He said, "I want to know what I can do for you. Ask for anything."

"I don't want _something_," She snapped, as tears she couldn't contain spilled from her eyes, "your money won't fix me. Go on, go tell your father that. Tell him I'm broken, can't be fixed. Send me to St. Mungo's if you will. You can hardly take back the engagement now, remember that."

Lucius didn't seem terribly upset by her words. "Narcissa, I am not your enemy."

"No, I suppose you're not," She replied.

The doors burst open. She heard violins and haughty laughter consume the quiet shadows of the garden. Abraxas Malfoy was guiding Lady Malfoy delicately across the veranda and into the maze. He walked slowly with her as she tentatively touched the blazing blossoms on the hedges. They were nearly the same as the younger couples furiously kissing underneath one of the hedgerows, completely and utterly consumed in their love for one another.

Narcissa supposed she married the equivalent of her father. Conniving, dismissive. Warm only when he thought the women in his life could be sold or used for political benefit. She huffed angrily, and tore her eyes from the Malfoys. Who were they to experience love while extending only misery to her? Some kindness.

Lucius waved his wand at the fountain and shut off one of the valves that sprayed on the side they were standing before. He sat down upon the side, where she imagined she had been sitting only last year.

"Father says he's secured a manor in France for our honeymoon," He stated.

"Oh, shall we visit your French belle, then?" Narcissa retorted.

He laughed good-naturedly. "We could visit her, I suppose. I doubt she will be prepared to see us, though."

"Why wouldn't she be?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, "isn't she at your beck and call?"

"Never," He replied, "she is quite independent."

"How unlike the women here. Is she feral?"

"No, just proud, I suspect," Lucius remarked.

Narcissa huffed. She hated his games. He so enjoyed them, clearly, but she wanted no part of them. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to be free of this evening, free of her engagement. Sometimes she even wanted to be free of life itself, though that was a dangerous thought she did not wish to dwell upon too deeply.

"So what's the date, then?" She asked.

"The wedding date?" Lucius replied, "It hasn't been decided, I suppose."

She couldn't be sure of whether or not he was lying. It was exhausting, trying to decide if he would deceive her again and again or if he was innocent of the entire thing. _Or_ perhaps there was no one to blame it all, which made things all the more difficult. She was not sure whom she could be angry with, but he seemed the most likely candidate.

"I didn't want this," Narcissa announced, "I want you to know that. This was never _my _decision. It was yours and people like you that made this happen."

"I know," He replied, "let's make the best of this that we can."

"How?" She began raising her voice, "I have to be married to you for my entire life, how can I _make the best of it_, Lucius? What do you know of how I feel? You've never sacrificed anything in your entire _life_ !"

He took her by the arm and pulled her away from the other guests, and most importantly, his mother and father who were watching them with mild curiosity. He guided her to the canopy where, ironically, they had first argued.

"I would let you go if I could," He whispered, "but I cannot stop this anymore than you can, so _please _stop berating me for things I have no control over."

"Y-you would let me go?" Narcissa asked, "just like that? Like you did with my sister?"

"Of course," Lucius said, "_if_ I could. Bellatrix had very different circumstances, it was easier to break off an engagement that had been decided at birth, especially when your parents could secure one of their other daughters as a bride. But this—Narcissa they announced it to everyone, it's really quite final. Aside from death…"

"Death?" She repeated, "If that's the answer…"

"That isn't the answer," Lucius said, sighing, "I'm sorry, I really am, but you cannot escape from this."

"I could leave," She suggested, "go and live with Andromeda, perhaps."

"Would she even have you?"

Narcissa felt a sinking sensation in her chest. He was right. What would her estranged sister have to think of her? A girl of fifteen, unable to do most magic and had never worked in her entire life. She could hardly get by on her own. She would starve to death and die, possibly even be brutally murdered by a Muggle. She shuddered. _Muggles_.

"I suppose you're right," She said, "I suppose I'm _doomed_."

"I'm not so terrible, am I?" Lucius asked, laughing.

"Positively dismal," Narcissa stated, "worse than what is even comprehensible."

"My heart aches for you then," He replied, "it must be awful, marrying someone like that."

Narcissa tilted her head, "S'pose it's not worse than marrying someone like me."

"No, I couldn't have been luckier."

She was taken aback.

"Lucky?"

She wanted to tell him that she hated him, that he couldn't possibly be lucky, but she couldn't. She didn't hate him. She wanted to, she thought it would make her life much simpler if she could hate the man that had imprisoned her, but she didn't. A small smile crossed her face, and she looked away from him stubbornly.

"You aren't fair," Narcissa argued, "you anger me terribly and then charm me."

"I'm charming _you_?"

They laughed together for a few moments, before the truth sobered them. Neither of them wanted or needed this. If they had only been born someone else, or even somewhere else. She supposed that, if she had to marry someone, at least it was him. He would at least understand her unhappiness.

Lucius was the first to speak again, "I wish I had told you the truth."

"What does it matter?" She responded, "I wouldn't have liked it then either."

Maybe that was a lie, though. Narcissa could only imagine her fourteen year old self, innocently brooding by the fountain when Lucius Malfoy approached her, whimsical and romantic, and announced he had found his future bride in her. How happy she would have been, to know she was going to marry one of the greatest men of her society. If he had said so then, she would have snapped her wand in half if he asked her to. She would have done anything he asked.

The realization sank in, and she went cold. What power he could have possessed over her. In fact, he could have done anything he wanted and she would gleefully accept it as if it was a gift! Narcissa gasped slightly.

"Are you all right?" He asked, extending his hand to her elbow to steady her, as if expecting her to swoon.

"I'm fine," She replied, "I-I…"

Surely he had known the power he could have abused against her. If she could think of it, then he could. Why hadn't he? What benefit did it serve him to keep her from helplessly clinging to him?

"You did this on purpose," Narcissa announced, withdrawing from him.

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius asked, tilting his head.

She was shocked. "The entire thing, you planned it…you didn't tell me last year even though you knew I would have gladly accepted—you made me feel betrayed by you, you made me _hate _you—what are you playing at?"

He looked worriedly over at his parents. She had not spoken quite as loudly as before, but it was possible that her voice had carried to them just the same. However, his parents were seated upon a bench, hands clasped tightly and deep in conversation.

"It's not as simple as that," Lucius murmured.

"What then?" Narcissa snapped.

"I…I didn't plan this," He said, "Not quite so in depth, I promise you. But I was allowed to tell you immediately or not at all, and I chose to keep the truth from you as long as they would let me. I devised the letter on your birthday; it wasn't a part of their plan, it was mine. It opened when you truly loved me…"

"This part I know," She interrupted.

He gave her a cross look, and then continued. "When you said that you had opened the letter, I knew I had to tell you the truth. I thought it was only then that you would understand the seriousness of the situation…I wanted you to know, Narcissa. I swear I didn't try to betray you, I just…I thought that you should at least be able to choose between loving or hating me since you never actually chose to marry me. Some husbands they…they put their wives under potions and spells to make them agreeable, but I couldn't."

"Why couldn't I be indifferent to you?" Narcissa asked. "You never gave me that choice."

"Neither of us was allowed that particular kind of freedom," He answered.

"Thank you, then," Narcissa replied, after a long pause. "I guess I haven't considered how you have also suffered the burden of a marriage you don't want."

"If we cannot be husband and wife in heart, I would at least like to call you a great friend," Lucius said, "you mean more to me than anyone else."

Narcissa scoffed at him. She felt like crying, but her corset wouldn't allow her the movement of a sob, and so she suppressed it.

"You are such a dolt," She responded, laughter spilling from her despite the jabs from the corset and the dizziness that threatened to overtake her.

"Thank you," Lucius said scathingly.

"I'm going to have to put up with this for the rest of my life," Narcissa said, sighing heavily. "Brilliant."

"I'm not nearly as exasperating as _you_."

"Shut it."

Narcissa grasped him by the front of his robes and kissed him deeply beneath the sheen canopy. She had spent so long hating him that the release of such a feeling was a wondrous moment indeed. A heavy burden that she could finally let go.


	15. Chapter 15

"_You will hear thunder and remember me,__  
__And think: she wanted storms. The rim__  
__Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,__  
__And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire."_

_You Will Hear Thunder_ by Anna Akhmatova

"We can't go out there," Druella Black complained, as she lifted the thick curtains back to peer out from the glass. "This is _mad. _There's no safe place to go to."

"Perhaps we should journey to France for the rest of the year," Cygnus suggested, as he folded over the _Daily Prophet_ which reported about the Prime Minister on the front page addressing his first decree in office. "You're right, it isn't safe. Not safe at all, really."

"They will find us," She argued. "They always _do_."

Narcissa heard a loud thump from the foyer. She glanced across at her parents, wondering if they had been alerted by such an occurrence, but it appeared they were too engrossed in their troubles to be very observant. She stood up silently, and left the parlor. She hoped it wasn't a burglar, or something else incredibly frightening. Perhaps it had only been a house elf, but she couldn't be sure. She reached the door, and was surprised to find that someone had placed a neatly wrapped package upon the rug.

She was frozen for a long moment. She took a slow step forward, inching near the rug and hoping it hadn't been cursed. As she neared it, the candles lit upon the wall blew out, and she was left in mostly darkness. A chill went down her spine, and from the shadows a voice called to her.

"Not a very bright witch, are you?" The voice said. "Is it because of greed or curiosity?"

Narcissa turned quickly. The figure before her was idly leaning against the wall, one leg across the other and his hands clasped. His features were sharp, somewhat waxy, but still he was handsome. Except for the eyes.

"Are you one of them?" She asked, gesturing toward the door.

He laughed so coldly that she took a step back from him.

"_No_, I'm not a reporter, Miss Black," He explained, "Although the article about you in _Witch Weekly _was—ah—_enchanting._ I have an appointment."

"Are you certain you have the right address?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

He smiled. "I'm quite certain. I'm here for Master Cygnus Black."

"Oh…" Narcissa shuffled to the side, and went down the corridor.

She opened the parlor door quickly.

"Father there's a man," Narcissa announced, "he says he has an appointment with you."

Her father slowly rose from the divan. Druella stood up, but he gestured for her to remain in her seat. Narcissa shut the door after her father and followed him down the corridor. When he noticed her, he held out his hand for her to remain hiding near the staircase. The man in the room had moved to the place where she had been standing, and so he could immediately see Cygnus as he approached.

"Good afternoon," Cygnus greeted, "I don't believe we had any scheduled arrangements, I'm terribly sorry for such an inconvenience…"

The man crossed the distance between them and took hold of Cygnus by the throat, his wand pointed at him. Narcissa shrank against the staircase in terrified silence.

"You promised me you would pay my keep," He replied flatly. "I should have just killed you for suggesting such a thing, but I'm a nice man, a kind man. I spared your life then because I needed the money, but money is nothing to me now, Black."

Her father gasped and shook, and the man let him crumple to the floor.

"What do you need?" Her father asked, rasping. "I'll…give you…whatever you…need."

"Good," He responded, flashing a smile. "You leave behind a legacy of filth and waste, Cygnus. But I am a merciful Lord."

"You…are…not….a…Lord."

He wrenched Cygnus up from the floor and wrapped his hands across his throat, and squeezed.

"No," He agreed, "I'm so much more."

The parlor door opened, and her mother marched blindly into the main hall. She didn't even notice Narcissa.

"What is going on?" Druella snapped.

"Your husband owes me a great debt," The man said calmly.

He flushed the last breath from the form he was holding and then snapped the neck.

Her mother barely flinched. "You should leave now for what you have done."

"I'll kill your entire family, Lady," He announced, "If you don't give me what I want."

"And just what the hell do you want?"

"Your society," The man replied. "I want to own you all."

"And my husband promised you this? For what?" Druella asked. "He was hardly a man in position to _give_ you such a thing."

The man leered. "No, no. But he made sure that I _would_. I have your nephew, Lady. He's been mine for the last year, and I have several Zabini sons. I have all of the Parkinson children, even the youngest named Mara. I have infiltrated your future, Mrs. Black. The last thing I need is one of yours, and because your husband was too comfortable with his lifestyle to accept the task, then I shall take a daughter."

"My daughters are married or betrothed, there's no one available for you to have…"

Another laugh came from him, harsh and cold.

"Your society is so corrupt that you cannot see that there are warriors among the other half of your ranks—deep rooted misogyny keeps you from being an incredible magical force, but your lot knows that. _You_ know that, don't you? You knew you had more power and intellect than your husband could ever dream of and you gave it up for your _patriarchal_ duty. And you've sentenced your daughters to the same fate."

"I don't…"

"_Silencio."_

"I want one of your daughters. I _demand_ one of your daughters, Mrs. Black. They will fight for me. They will serve me in my war. But I can see that you will need time to properly grieve for the_ devastating_ loss of your husband, and of course, you've a spectacular wedding to plan. I will accept this, Lady, I can show mercy. You have exactly a year to choose which daughter you will give to me, and if you don't…well, you should prepare your own ceremony too."

With a pop, he dispersed.

"We need to leave," Druella rounded on Narcissa. "We need to get out of this house—this country."

"Mother," Narcissa interrupted. "Who was that man?"

Druella looked down at her husband's still body, and then she turned back to her daughter.

"That was…" She stifled a fearful cry. "I don't _know _who that was."

And then she turned for the stairs, leaving Narcissa in darkness.

Her father's study was scarcely lit by a single candle on his desk. Narcissa sank into the chair by one of his bookcases. Druella Black was seated, hands clasped and folded on the desk in front of her, in Cygnus's chair. She was still wearing her mourning robes from the funeral earlier in the day.

"I want to know everything about this man," She announced. "I deserve to know that much."

Abraxas relaxed against the back of the chair. Lucius was present too, sitting next to his father. She wasn't really supposed to be there for meetings amongst men, but then again, her mother wasn't supposed to be either.

"There isn't a great deal of information on him, I'm afraid," Abraxas responded. "He claims his goal is to rid the world of the impure, so that families like ours shall have the influence we deserve. Aside from his politics, I have no idea of his plans. He has been…_recruiting_ our children for some time now. I'm not even sure what he does with them. I assume he pays the family compensation of some sort."

"So he killed my husband because he would not sacrifice his daughters?"

Abraxas shrugged. "Of that, Lady, I cannot be sure. Cygnus must have had dealings with this man. You know how _shady_ crooks are. He might just be a petty criminal with a big plan. They never work out, of course."

"Has he approached you before?" Druella questioned.

"Oh, yes," He replied, "Asked me if I wanted to sign Lucius up for his cause years ago. I told him I would consider the arrangement if my son was married with a healthy son already born—I only have one heir, you know. I need to keep my line secured. He seemed quite agreeable then…ah. I still believe he is some kind of scam."

"He wants one of my daughters," She whispered, "possibly both if he can get them."

"Well," Abraxas sighed heavily, "this is quite a serious matter. This man wasn't a threat three years ago. The fact that he's willing to kill one of us is quite alarming. But there isn't anything we can do yet, unfortunately, so I do think we should get on to business.

"Since Cygnus intended to assign his estate to my son upon his death anyway, I think we should begin the process of signing contracts for the negotiations now, Druella. It will be one less thing that we will have to concern ourselves with, and then we can plan the most beautiful wedding."

Druella pursed her lips, but nodded. Abraxas procured several scrolls of parchment from his pocket, and smoothed them out in front of her mother. Druella signed each of them quickly, and then with a heavy sigh, handed them to the man across from her.

"Thank you," He responded, "My son will care for your family's estate and property, Druella. You needn't worry."

"Not for a year at least," She retorted with a snort, and then sobered, "I still think that Narcissa and I should flee the country. This man…he was in our home. The reporters won't even dare do that."

Abraxas shook his head. "Running will give him motive. It would be in your best interest to have security charms…otherwise, you are safe for the year. That is ample opportunity to devise a plan to save you and your daughters."

Narcissa took her leave from the room. The world around her felt as though it was collapsing. Who _was _the man that had killed her father? More importantly, how had it been so easy? It hardly seemed fair. Her father was powerful, wealthy, esteemed. He had magic for Merlin's sake—and he had killed him with his hands. Her mother had not even told Bellatrix yet…she wondered if perhaps she would wait until her honeymoon was over. That seemed unbearably cruel too.

Poppy was waiting for her at the door of her bedroom chamber. She plucked him up from the floor and wrapped her arms around him, clutching him against her chest. He purred against her, tail flicking—it was one of the few moments he even let her touch him, let alone hold him. It surprised her. The home seemed the same. Her room had been identical to its current décor and arrangement since childhood. But there was something missing. Her life seemed more like a play, a stage with beautiful arrangements that went cold and dark when the actors weren't present.

She would never hear her father's voice again.

Her sobs startled Poppy. He wriggled out of her arms to the floor and raised his paw to his mouth to wash, as if her touch had soiled him. Narcissa sniffed, and pulled the hangings from her bed, tied them back on the post properly. The House Elves had not disturbed her room—or any of the bedrooms, really, for fear that their presence might somehow inflict harm upon them.

This was her home, the one she had grown up in. The one where she discovered her arranged marriage and felt her father's betrayal. The staircase Bellatrix and pushed her down at thirteen. The portraits that never stopped leering at her. The attic where she and Lucius had eaten a silly, stolen dinner and conversed over trivial things. The dining hall where she had danced and danced and danced. The hammock she had spent her summers in. And finally, the foyer where she watched her father die. Her mother would take her leave. Master Malfoy had made his best attempt at convincing her mother that her home was the best place to stay, but undoubtedly, they would go to Aunt Walburga. It was tradition for the widow to retreat to the family estate after the death of her spouse. Narcissa would be married or dead or both by the end of the year anyway, it only seemed fitting to leave now while they still could.

She heard arguing outside of her door. Her mother's voice and Lucius's, to her surprise. There were three sets of footsteps, though, so she imagined Abraxas was following silently.

"I _won't_ let you into her bedroom chamber, Lucius, it simply isn't proper!" Druella argued, "You might be engaged to her, and you might be a Malfoy and think that you make all of the rules, but she is _my _daughter."

Narcissa cracked the door and peered from it curiously. Her mother's arms were spread out in front of the door to keep him from entering or speaking with her.

"She has a right to consider the idea, Lady Black," Lucius responded, "If she is old enough to marry _me _then she is old enough to make the decision."

"Fine. Since I've already signed the property and estate to you and you have what you want, just leave her then," She snapped. "She isn't your problem now, Lucius. You can have whatever you wish."

"Mother!" Narcissa threw the door back, letting it bang against the wall.

Lucius looked over her mother's shoulder to Narcissa. He cast a withering expression back to Druella.

"The engagement has been contracted and announced," Abraxas interrupted, "we will not go back on our word, Druella. I made a commitment to our community."

"I won't allow this absurd proposition your son has made," She responded. "It is not _proper_."

"It makes no difference!" Lucius exclaimed. "The estates are now basically the same; wouldn't that make it just as improper for her to live here as it would anywhere else?"

"We are going to the Black family estate," Druella announced flatly. "It is tradition and it is proper."

"For the widow to return there, yes," He said, "but not for her."

"And you think that I will just _let you _take control of my life and my daughter's?" Druella rounded on him. "I let my husband lead because it is how the role of man and wife should _be _Lucius, and now he is gone because some other man decided to take control of my family—and you want to step in too? I'm a witch, Mr. Malfoy, not a house elf. And I'll hex the smug expression off your face if you even try to step past this doorway."

"Narcissa should have the choice," Lucius replied, teeth clenched.

"Druella, I implore you," Abraxas said, "let my son speak with her."

Narcissa heaved a sigh from her chest and crossed her arms. She just wanted to sleep. People had been coming and going ever since her father had died—with various puddings and tears, expressing their sorrows for their loss. She wanted it to be over already. She wanted her father back.

"Absolutely not!" Druella exclaimed. "You will marry her when I say so, properly, if at _all _considering the behavior I have seen this evening. Abraxas, you may own my property and estate, but my daughter is still mine."

"You gave away one of your daughters to an ill-fit family, Druella because you wouldn't let her have the choice in the first place," Abraxas said. "Do not make that mistake again."

"Bellatrix married a _fine _husband, quite the opposite of your son!"

Narcissa had heard enough.

"I am standing _right_ here!" She announced. "It's not as if I cannot hear you lot yelling at one another from down the street—but worse, you're outside my chamber door."

Druella turned toward her daughter. "Shut the door and go back inside, Cissy."

"No."

"_Excuse me_?"

"Lucius, come in."

Druella pulled her wand from her robes, and aimed, creating a protective barrier in the doorway.

"I'm her mother. It is my job to protect her."

"Fine job you did of that, letting her witness her father's murder," Lucius replied.

Abraxas laid a hand on his son's shoulder, pulling him back from Druella.

"Enough. All of us, this would not be occurring if Cygnus was still here. We must honor his memory and protect his wife and daughter, Lucius, not hurt them. We are your friends, Druella. We mean no harm. My son wishes to marry your daughter and his affection for her yields him the desire to protect her, just like you are now. Be reasonable, Druella."

"Cygnus was far too lenient with you and your family, Abraxas. He gave you more allowances than anyone would—you could have taken the silver from the kitchen and he would have helped you pack it," Druella said. "I am not so charitable."

Narcissa snarled, though no one could hear it through the barrier. She could hear their words—perhaps that was the point, her mother wished that she would listen to her reason rather than the Malfoy's.

"Mrs. Black, I went to school with your daughter. We are friends, I wouldn't harm her," Lucius argued.

While her mother's attention was on Lucius, Abraxas pulled out his wand. The barrier dispersed.

"I cannot guarantee that, and therefore you shall not be with my daughter _alone_ in her bedroom chamber."

"It's not like he hasn't been there before," Narcissa retorted.

Her mother turned her head, and then whipped her body back in the direction of Abraxas.

"_You_!"

Lucius darted past her as she turned to Abraxas, wand blazing. Red smoke was fuming from the top. He slammed the door and locked it, and then for the next few moments, she watched him weave various locking charms across the doors.

"What the hell is going on?" Narcissa asked.

Poppy hissed from the window.

"Your mother has gone mad," Lucius answered.

"Clearly."

"I asked her if she would consent to us eloping," He explained. "You wouldn't bear your father's name—I thought perhaps it would help. Everyone assumes that the man that killed your father wants you; you're the only one carrying the name."

"I'm underage; he could hardly have need of me. I cannot do magic outside of school, surely he knows that."

"Regulus joined at sixteen," Lucius responded. "It doesn't seem that he cares."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Tell me what you know about this name. What's his name? Why is he taking recruitments?"

Lucius pursed his lips. He glanced at the door worriedly, as if he expected her mother to charge through the door at any moment, and such information would be wasteful.

"He goes by Lord Voldemort," He said at last. "No one knows his lineage, or his real name. At least not anyone I have spoken to. He wants to gain political power of some sort, not by election, but by force. He's recruiting our society because we have more power in the government and we have more wealth, so his politics surround blood purity—to appeal to us, I guess."

"He's building an army out of us, and we're supposed to pay for it and die for it as well?" Narcissa asked. "How exactly do you cleanse the impurities of the magical community by killing off the offspring of our society?"

Lucius shook his head. "That's why I think it is about power, but I cannot be sure."

"You can't just…_build_ an army and take over the world. That sort of thing doesn't happen, I mean…you just…it isn't feasible."

"I want to protect you, if I can," He said.

"Marriage doesn't fix everything, Lucius," Narcissa replied. "He said my mother could decide between me and Bellatrix, and she is married."

"But she won't choose Bellatrix," Lucius said quietly. "You _know _she will choose to sacrifice you. If we could wed, I could take your place."

"He'll just want us both," She argued. "Or he'll kill us because we tried to trick him."

"He knows about our engagement," Lucius said. "He expects us to be married…if we were married, I could take your place, Narcissa. Please."

Narcissa frowned. "Maybe that's the plan all along. To get to you. Your father denied him once. Now he will recruit you with your absolute consent."

"It doesn't matter," Lucius replied.

"Then eloping isn't going to help, if the results will end the same," Narcissa said. "We will marry, and you will try to strike a deal with a murderer. A mad man. And he'll take us both, and we will probably die somewhere for a cause we don't care about. Because I am sorry, Lucius, if this is a cause you can believe in, but it isn't for me. Mudbloods aren't worth dying for. My father is dead. I don't care about anything else."

The charms broke. She felt their physical presence snap in half, and her mother burst through the door. Narcissa couldn't imagine what she expected to see, but there was disappointment upon her face when she found the two of them, a great deal of distance apart, wearing somber expressions.

"My offer still stands," Lucius said at last, ignoring her mother. "I would prefer it if, for the remainder of the year, you move to the Malfoy manor. It would be safer."

"Safer than my Aunt Walburga's home? It has a Fidelius Charm on it, Lucius…"

"That Regulus is knowledgeable of," Lucius interrupted. "As well as Sirius Black, who has betrayed your family."

"He is right," Druella said, with a sigh. "That doesn't change my decision. We would be better to face the danger than ruin our reputation."

"Reputation won't matter if we're all dead," Abraxas said, leaning against the doorway.

Narcissa hated all three of them. Why couldn't they let it be? Her mother with her incessant adherence to the society's tradition. Lucius with his stupid ideas—he thought he could conquer anything. And Abraxas…for enabling his son's arrogance. She wanted to do nothing at all. She wanted to mourn, to sleep for a few days. To forget.

"What if we just remained here, like we were discussing in father's study?" She suggested. "Instead of moving or eloping, why don't we just give ourselves time to grieve before we forget about what has happened?"

"Arrange the wedding date to an earlier period," Lucius turned to Druella and his father. "We cannot waste a year planning a wedding."

"A wedding so soon after an announcement would be in poor taste," Her mother argued.

"Then the both of you should stay with us," Abraxas said. "We've more than enough room, and it would be safe. In light of your situation, our community would certainly oblige the arrangement."

Narcissa, fists clenched, made herself known with a slew of obscenities that made her mother's face go cold. Identical expressions of surprise fell upon the Malfoy's faces.

"_I _don't think any of this matters in concerns to safety," She snapped. "He came into our home and murdered my father—he knew I was watching, and he didn't mind that there was a witness. Moving and changing my name will hardly make a difference. He isn't adhering to our principles. He has made his own."

She sighed. The determined look upon Lucius's face told her that he wouldn't listen to reason. Perhaps he couldn't listen to it. She gave in then, and it felt like the beginning of a long marriage based upon her word against his.

The home was in an uproar. Her mother had gone positively mad and the reporters camped upon their stoop, snapping photographs from any open curtain break that they could, were relentless. Abraxas and Lucius had not left for nearly six days, though their appearances had been kept carefully concealed. The engagement announcement caused a stir in the community—not just among the purebloods—and it made Narcissa embarrassed.

Seer number thirteen took her place upon the divan across from her and Druella. This one was from Belgium.

"I see your daughter marrying into a highly esteemed family," She predicted.

"You and the rest of the wizarding world," Lucius scoffed, gesturing to the magazine article with Narcissa's face nervously frowning on the cover in front of her.

She fumbled with her jewelry, blushing crimson.

Hours later, the room was full of steam and the seer sat upon a bounty of plush pillows, giggling nervously as she peered into her crystal ball. Druella was insistent, hanging on to each prediction as if they were pearls of truth.

Then, it happened. The seer fell slack-jawed against her pillow. Her muscles twitched until she was still—Narcissa thought for a horrified moment that she was dead—and then she began muttering softly, voice rising in volume:

"_Tradition will fall when the Daughter of the Pure joins the ranks of her master. All that is known will be lost."_

"Well, isn't that helpful?" Lucius retorted, voice drawling.

"Who is the daughter?" Druella whispered fiercely.

"Any woman in our society," He responded, "this tells us nothing."

"Of course it doesn't," Narcissa said, "it's a prophecy."

Lucius smiled brightly at her.

Frustrated and warm from the humidity, she left the parlor. The package she had observed on the rug the day her father died was still in its place. She kicked it into the shadows as hard as she could, and went up the stairs with tears in her eyes.

In her bedroom, she parted the black curtains and pressed her face against the cool glass. It was raining. She could see lightning in the clouds from the distance, lighting up the puffy, swirling mists. The hammock in the courtyard was swaying in the breeze. Enraged, she decided to tear it down. The last piece of her childhood. She would dismantle it and forget the part of herself that she could no longer go back to.

When she reached the courtyard, the air that hit her was cold. Her hair, which was slipping from its haphazard braid, was swirling around her head as she stomped across the hard stone. The walls around her were just high enough to keep any of the reporters from noticing her presence, but she imagined they would take notice of her footsteps eventually, and try to ambush her.

The knots were so securely tied to each end of the tree that she rubbed her hands raw trying to pull them a part. But she pulled until the rope cut through her skin and she was frantically sobbing. Sinking onto the stone ground, she curled her arms around her legs and wept. For her father. For the stupid hammock.


	16. Chapter 16

"_I know the purity of pure despair,__  
__My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,__  
__That place among the rocks-is it a cave,__  
__Or winding path? The edge is what I have_._."_

_In A Dark Time _by Theodore Roethke

An owl swooped in through the open parlor window and fell onto a plate full of eggs on the breakfast table. It dropped two letters into Narcissa's lap, both bearing the Hogwarts seal. She was alone at the table, as her mother was with another seer in the dining hall, and Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy were picking up on her father's work for the estate. With great trepidation, she opened the thin envelope, and unfolded the parchment:

**ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS**

_**Narcissa Indus Black has achieved:**_

Arithmancy_A

Astronomy_P

Care of Magical Creatures_A

Charms_O

Defense Against the Dark Arts_A

Herbology_O

History of Magic_E

Potions_O

Transfiguration_A

The sound of her screaming brought her mother into the room in a panic, her wand blazing in her hand.

"What has—what has happened, Narcissa?" Druella asked worriedly, eyes darting about the room. "_He_ wasn't here again, was he?"

The Malfoys hurried in after her mother, both of their wands brandished as well.

"Nine O.W.L.s," Narcissa murmured.

It occurred to her that she was standing, and so she took a seat and dropped the letter onto the table. The unopened envelope had fallen to the floor in her surprise. She cradled her head in her hands. Lucius was the first to move. He approached the table, and read her results.

"Well, what is it?" Abraxas persisted, irritated by the commotion that had interrupted his work.

Lucius folded the letter and placed it beside her. "Narcissa's O.W.L results."

"Is _that_ all?" Druella responded, exhaling, and stowing her wand in her robe pocket, "Nothing to be excited about, Cissy. It's not like you are going back to that ruddy school anyway."

Narcissa pulled her hands off of her face, and glanced up at her mother.

"I'm going," She announced.

She picked up the other letter, and ripped it open, which gave her a textbook list based upon the classes she was eligible to take.

"You're—you're _what_?" Her mother stammered.

"I'm attending Hogwarts for my sixth year," Narcissa declared, as she stood up.

"_No_, you aren't. You're getting married—we were planning in early March, you cannot go. You simply cannot. I forbid you."

"The wedding will have to be postponed then," She replied, "until July or later."

"WE DON'T HAVE THAT MUCH TIME, NARCISSA!" Druella shouted.

"What good am I against this man—this Lord Voldemort, Mother? What good are any of us?" She asked. "I'll need supplies. An extra pair of robes, since mine were ruined. And a new cauldron, I incinerated one of them and the other I ordered was faulty after my O.W.L. exam."

Druella drew herself up to her greatest height. "Do you think your father would approve of this?"

"I'll take you to Diagon Alley," Lucius offered, ignoring her mother entirely.

"Excellent," She responded.

Her mother fumed in the parlor as the two of them passed through the door, but Abraxas followed them out. He shut the door firmly behind him, but he did not speak until they neared the door.

"Lucius," He called.

They turned to him.

He pulled two keys from his pocket, and placed them into Lucius's hand.

"This one is Cygnus's vault, and the other is mine," Abraxas explained, "that should be more than an adequate amount of gold to supply Narcissa with her needs."

"Thank you, Father," Lucius responded, nodding briskly.

Narcissa opened the door, and she and Lucius stepped from it. The reporters had finally vacated the lawn after several shops were robbed in Knockturn Alley. She supposed her engagement was no longer worth the front page.

"Ah!" Abraxas called out to them once more, "Congratulations, Narcissa."

Lucius Apparated just outside The Leaky Cauldron. The cobblestone street was bustling with shoppers, mostly for upcoming students. Narcissa was mostly impressed with how Lucius and Abraxas had responded to her decision, more than her sudden passion to return to a place that she had never wanted to attend. It now seemed so important. Knowing that she was worthy of being there, that she deserved it. That she belonged there. It was her right.

"Let's see your list then," Lucius held out his hand. "I'll go to Gringotts while you are fitted for robes. When I return, we can fetch your other supplies."

Narcissa nodded curtly. She thought perhaps he was approving of her because it served as a way of postponing the wedding. Perhaps the community would rebel against her action—after all, Lucius was required to be engaged and possibly even married by now.

Whatever consequence she would face, she would not let it interfere with her choices now. Narcissa opened the door to Madam Malkin's, feeling shy, because the last order she had placed was one for her engagement ceremony.

"Hello!" Madam Malkin called cheerfully, approaching the door.

Upon seeing Narcissa, her smile diminished.

"Are you here for a wedding dress now?" She asked, crossing her arms. "I'm sorry, but I'm too busy during this time of year, I…"

"I'm not here for that," Narcissa interrupted. "I am…I came to be fitted for Hogwarts robes."

Madam Malkin sighed in relief. "Oh, good. Right this way."

She directed her to the right side of the shop. As she arrived at the station that she had been guided to, she saw that Lily Evans was also standing before a mirror. Narcissa fumbled as she stood on the platform, nervously turning her head from the girl next to her.

"Hello, Narcissa," Lily greeted just the same. "How was your summer?"

"…My father died," Narcissa replied blankly, staring at herself in the mirror.

Madam Malkin paused, as if she wanted to interrupt, but she kept her mouth closed, and she draped a robe over Narcissa, and began putting pins through the fabric.

"I…I am so sorry," She said.

Lily Evans was silent for the rest of her fitting. One of the assistants finished her before Narcissa was done, and as she stepped down, she said goodbye to Narcissa. As she was purchasing her newly fitted school attire, Lucius entered the shop. An assistant greeted him, but he waved her off, and sidled over to Narcissa's station.

Madam Malkin was the first one to note his presence, as Narcissa was looking out of the window.

"You are a Malfoy, yes?" She questioned, turning to him. "You look very much like Odelia Malfoy—why, just last week she was in here."

"I am, yes," He replied, "I'm her son, Lucius."

Madam Malkin's eyes widened considerably, and she turned to Narcissa, then back to him.

"Of course, of course!" She exclaimed, "Miss Black is your fiancée, then. I made her gown for the engagement announcement."

"It was lovely," He complimented.

Madam Malkin turned pink at the ears, and returned to her work. She chattered to Lucius while she finished up, mostly about how kind she thought his mother was. Narcissa could not say that her thoughts on Lady Malfoy were necessarily wrong—she had never witnessed an instant where she was not genuinely kind and proper.

Once her robes were properly fitted, she and Lucius searched Flourish and Blott's for her necessary schoolbooks. The list was, fortunately, not comprised of any materials for Astronomy, as she had not passed the examination.

They left the shop in good spirits, and spent the better part of the afternoon browsing the vendor's stalls in the street, and collecting the last of her necessary supplies. Laden with their purchases, they made their way amongst the crowds to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Narcissa placed the cauldron full of her supplies down on one of the tables, and wandered over to a vendor selling _The Daily Prophet_. Lucius disappeared into the shop, and Narcissa paid for the paper, and then she took a seat outside of the ice cream parlour. On the front cover, the Minister of Magic was smiling and waving with his son, who was also named Cornelius Fudge.

"Raspberry and pumpkin," Lucius announced, passing her an ice cream cone. "Apparently it's decent."

She placed the newspaper flat against the table, and accepted the sundae that Lucius handed her. She raised her eyebrows curiously at the flavor combinations—especially since it sounded revolting—but she decided that, if eaten separately, the two would perhaps be fine. It appeared that Lucius had chosen the same for himself, but he didn't look particularly confident about it.

"How angry do you think your mother is?" Lucius asked conversationally, waiting until she had taken her first spoonful and observing her response before he tried the ice cream himself.

"I'm surprised she isn't here to escort me home and lock me in my bedroom chamber," Narcissa responded, smiling.

She studied him quizzically, as he mostly watched his sundae melt in the warm sunshine. He was looking steadily more tired, even more so than when she had seen him the evening of her Astronomy exam.

"Have you been ill?" Narcissa asked.

"No, no," Lucius said quickly.

She thought of what Bellatrix had suggested—seducing Lucius before marrying him. She wasn't even sure what that entailed exactly, although her sister seemed to think she already had. Bellatrix would have known what to do in her place. She had been there, hadn't she? Betrothed to Lucius against her will, and she unraveled an arrangement placed against her before her birth. But she hadn't loved him, had she? Love made her journey quite difficult.

"Have you ever stayed at The Leaky Cauldron?" Narcissa asked, pushing her sundae aside.

"No," He answered.

After a long moment's pause, where she bit her lip nervously, she asked, "Well…shall we?"

Lucius met her gaze, a puzzled expression upon his face.

"S-Stay overnight, you know," Narcissa stammered, "at The Leaky Cauldron."

"I think both of our parents would be furious," He said uncertainly.

Narcissa shrugged her shoulders. "How much angrier could they get?"

The room was much smaller than she imagined, and homely. She could hear the Muggle street from the window, but a blazing fire was already lit in the fireplace. There was a single bed in the room and two chairs and a table in front of the fireplace. The barkeeper, Tom, had already supplied the tea that they had requested and the tray had been placed on a table. Lucius had been silent the entire time except during the room transaction downstairs. She thought perhaps he felt apprehensive.

"Well…it's…kind of…" Lucius trailed off.

"Small," Narcissa supplied. "Shabby, homely…"

"Terrifying," Lucius finished.

Narcissa looked up at him. "Why?"

He said nothing. His footsteps made creaks along the wooden floors, and he sat in front of the fire. Narcissa followed him, and she sat in the chair opposite of him.

"Perhaps this was a bad idea," Narcissa said.

He was quiet. She wasn't sure if the idea was bad—well, of course it _was_, but it meant much more to her than approval from her mother or his father. If she was old enough to marry him, then certainly she was old enough to choose where she wanted to go and what she wished to do. The truth was she knew she wasn't old enough to do either, but she didn't have options in the first place.

"Right, I think I'll go downstairs and perhaps order a meal," Lucius said, rising from his seat.

"Wait!" Narcissa stood up, and followed him across the room.

She grasped him by the wrist just before he could leave, and he stopped, though she had an inkling that he wanted to run away more than anything.

"Stay," She coaxed.

"Narcissa…"

"How often will we have this opportunity?" Narcissa insisted. "To be alone, to have a private conversation? Even when we're married, Lucius, we will have respective duties. Your job will be to wake up early and work tirelessly in your study for the rest of your life…and what will my job be? To take tea in my parlor?"

"What are you asking of me?"

"Let's pretend we aren't ourselves," She said, sliding her fingers through his, "before we have to go back to being whoever they want us to be."

The fire burned to low embers. Their forms cast shadows upon the walls. All was quiet except for their hitched breathing and the creaks that came from the bed where they slowly and rhythmically made love.

Narcissa was splayed out across the sheets, rapturously curled to fit against Lucius's body. With her hands she luxuriated in the freedom of exploring the new territories of him, the supple skin along his back. She discovered freckles dotted along his shoulders that she had never seen before. Felt an ecstasy with him she had not known existed. With her body, she told him her story—the youngest daughter, the forgotten one. She said "I love you" to him in the only way that made sense. The purest way.


	17. Chapter 17

"_I would liken you__  
__To a night without stars__  
__Were it not for your eyes.__  
__I would liken you__  
__To a sleep without dreams__  
__Were it not for your songs."_

_Quiet Girl_ by Langston Hughes

Narcissa swept onto the platform through the barrier while pushing her trunk. She tucked her hair behind her ear and went up to the train. It was nearing time, so she made haste and went down the corridor, peeking into compartments until she found an empty one and she hoisted her trunk up onto the luggage rack above her and then sat down on one of the flat benches. She exhaled in relief. She did it. By herself no less. Her mother had allowed her to take a car to the station, but she had refused to go with her out of embarrassment. Lucius could not accompany her, of course, because it was not proper, and Abraxas hadn't the time to chaperon them.

A few faces floated through the windows as students came aboard the train. Narcissa smoothed her robes over her and sat primly by the window, turning her face to look out at the students mingling with one another or with their parents. The compartment door slid open and she turned her face to looked at the newcomer and found her cousin, Sirius Black. His hair was long, falling in soft waves around his shoulders and he had a black eye. She assumed he had been in some sort of trouble then. She waited for him to say something rather than address him first and this inaction did not seem to bother him that much.

"Hear you've been causing quite a stir in the community," He said, "Better watch yourself, Cissy. Wouldn't want to end up like me, would you?"

He glared at her and then shut the compartment door. She watched him go down the corridor to a compartment and slip in. She turned her head and sighed heavily. She was no longer under the protection of Bellatrix or Lucius, which would admittedly bring unwanted attention by Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. However, on the train she was left alone by everyone for most of the duration of the trip to the castle. She bought sweets and pumpkin juice to keep her satiated until the feast, and then when it was nearing the appropriate time, she pulled the shades down over the windows and changed into her Hogwarts robes. She pulled her trunk from the luggage carrier above her and heaved it out into the corridor. The other students were doing much the same. The train came to a stop, and she lined up with the other students filing out of compartments.

As she stepped off the train and glanced up at the carriages she started in surprise. There were _things_ attached them—great winged bat like beasts of skeletal form and eyes full of death. Narcissa slowly moved near the carriages, although she thought it might be better to walk. Perhaps she had gone mad. Completely and utterly mad, for no other student seemed concerned by the creatures that she was so clearly disturbed by. It was possible that only she was seeing them, which was concerning. She sighed and hesitantly opened the door to a carriage and stowed her trunk inside of it, and then she stepped up and slid inside. Maybe she was ill or distraught in some way. Such creatures…she felt frightened.

When they arrived at the castle, she dropped her trunks off and stepped into the Great Hall. She wasn't even sure who the Prefects were or who had been named Head Boy and Head Girl. She glanced up at the row of staff on the front table facing them and wondered if she should consult one of them about what she had seen. Although, they could perhaps send her straight to St. Mungo's and that would hardly convince her mother that coming back for her sixth year was the most appropriate action to take. She had just barely managed to persuade her to believe that Hogwarts was safe against Lord Voldemort.

She glanced down the table and sighed a little. She hadn't the slightest idea of what arrangement would be made or where she could even sit. Without her sister and Lucius to guide the social hierarchy it appeared to be in shambles of sorts. Yet no one sat at the end where they had been, as if their legacy was being preserved. Hmm. Narcissa marched over and sat at the end in exactly the same space that Lucius had always claimed until last summer. Now it was hers, she decided. It was her final year and she would sit where she pleased.

Tobias Zabini and Phoebe Greengrass approached her and sat opposite of her at the table. She was surprised, but pleased.

"Hello, Narcissa," Tobias greeted, "How are you feeling?"

Oh. She blinked. She was now the girl whose father had died. _That_ was why they were sitting near her; they pitied her. She felt flushed and agitated now. She didn't know why anyone pretended to care when she knew that they didn't.

"I'm quite fine," She snapped, "Thank you."

The feast was fairly miserable for her. She watched the first years sorting with a bored gaze and then ate in silence. She listened to Phoebe complain about her sister Scarlet and how the summer festivities had been less than on par with what _she_ thought they should have been. Finally, the prefects rose and led them down to the dungeons. As she walked across the hall, she caught sight of Andromeda going up the stairs. She opened up her palms and flashed two of her fingers at her, then pointed to the floor. Narcissa nodded and dropped back to the end of the Slytherin line. She followed quietly and then hid in an alcove just before entrance to the common room.

"_Pureblood_!" The prefect cried, and brought all of the others in.

When the coast was clear, Narcissa crept up the dungeon stairs and into the entrance hall. She looked around and then headed up to the second floor. As she approached, she saw that Myrtle had flooded the area around the bathroom again. Ick. She opened the door and slipped in and found Andromeda leaning against the sink. Next to her was Lily Evans, to her surprise.

"How did you manage to come here?" Andromeda asked immediately, "Mum would have never allowed it, and father…"

Narcissa swallowed hard. "Father is…dead."

Her expression didn't waver. She had expected some sort of reaction, even if she had cheered loudly and danced about, but there was none.

"How?" She asked finally.

"Murdered," Narcissa admitted.

Lily Evans sharply inhaled in surprise.

"But don't tell anyone," She said quickly, "No one's supposed to know."

"Did Bellatrix…?" She asked hesitantly.

Narcissa shook her head. "No. A man named Lord Voldemort."

Andromeda and Lily quickly exchanged glances. They knew him, whatever that meant. She could tell by the sudden understanding that came between them. Andromeda nodded silently to Lily, who looked quite grim.

"Have I missed something?" Narcissa asked.

Andromeda turned from Lily. "What else do you know about father's murderer?"

"Nothing," She answered, "Only that father was paying his expenses instead of joining him. That was why he killed him. He's recruiting all of the purebloods into his army."

Lily twisted her face in disgust. Andromeda nodded, as if it was a very logical idea.

"Do you know his members?" Lily asked anxiously.

Narcissa shrugged. "I assume everyone in Slytherin almost. Regulus is a member and has been since his sixth year."

"Listen to me, Cissy. This is very important," Andromeda instructed, "They are called Death Eaters. You know about Regulus, but who else?"

"I don't _know_," Narcissa argued.

"What about Lucius?" She asked in a hushed voice.

"No, he isn't."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"I am entirely certain that he nor anyone in his family is a part of their group."

Andromeda accepted this answer finally, after staring at her for a long moment. Lily seemed quite unnerved by this information.

After a long moment of silence, Andromeda broke it by asking, "Why are you here then? Shouldn't you be preparing for a wedding in the summer?"

"I convinced mother to let me return to school," She answered, "My exam scores were good and I felt I deserved a more complete education."

"Oh," She replied.

"What were those things on the carriage?" She asked suddenly.

She remembered—it felt like so long ago now—last year, Andromeda had known what they were called.

"Thestrals," She replied, raising her eyebrows, "But you can't see them unless—"

"Unless you've seen someone die," Narcissa finished flatly.

She turned around and left the bathroom wordlessly, pushing her palm against the bathroom door and opening it. She glanced around the dark corridor and then crept down the stairs to the first floor. She heard Mrs. Norris creeping around on this floor, and so she took off at a bit of a run toward the ground floor and down into the dungeons. She was panting and sweating by the time she made it to the Slytherin common room. As she said the password and opened the door, she saw groups of older students clustered around on the couches and desks, but none of the younger ones.

Heads turned to peer at her curiously. She heard whispers as she walked further into the room and then decided to go up the stairs. Of course they were gossiping. She wasn't supposed to be here in their eyes. Narcissa climbed the stairs and walked down the hall toward her dormitory. As she neared it, one of the doors were flung open and Mara appeared in the doorway.

"Narcissa," She called, looking at her wearily, "How was your summer?"

"All things considered," She answered, "It was fine. I thought you wouldn't return?"

Mara shrugged. "Candra failed and he had to redo this year, and so my parents allowed me to come back since the wedding has to be postponed."

Narcissa was quite certain that Candra Zabini was stupid enough to fail, but she also thought that he had done so on purpose to postpone marriage. It was somewhat clever for a dolt like him. She wouldn't have thought him capable of such highbrow thought processes.

"And why are you here?" Mara asked, crossing her arms, "Aren't you getting married this summer?"

"Yes, but that's this summer," She replied, "Which is quite a long time, don't you think?"

"No, not really," She said.

Narcissa shrugged. "It is long enough, I suppose."

She left Mara and went to her dormitory. Phoebe Greengrass was sitting in front of a mirror, brushing out her hair. She regarded Narcissa as she walked past, but said nothing. Most of the other girls in her year were still downstairs. She dressed for bed and then pulling the hangings around her. She fell asleep quite soon and quite soundly.

The months went by in a blur of extensive homework and studying. She did not find herself very lonely, for she was given so much homework that most of her time was spent alone out of necessity rather than the fact that she was friendless. In the absence of her sister and Lucius, she found more time to extend to her studies and less time worrying about the going-ons of the other Slytherins around who, all of which had either shunned her or gazed upon her in wonder, expecting her to fall apart at any moment over her father. She vaguely heard of a rumor going on about her that said that she and Lucius had broken their engagement and that was the reason she had come back, and while she supposed she could have done something to calm their curiosity, she did not.

It was nearing Halloween whenever she received a thick envelope from Lucius' owl during breakfast. She was eating toast and marmalade while flipping through her Transfiguration book when it arrived. The poor thing was wet from rain and it fell into a plate of bacon, squabbled up, and dropped the heavy burden on top of her book. She softly reached forward to pet its feathers and show gratitude, and once she had done so, he soared out of the Great Hall. She unfolded the letter discreetly, flicking her eyes around to check for wandering eyes. When she discovered none, she opened the letter to read.

_Dear Narcissa,_

_Your mother and my family have begun the extensive wedding plans. In your absence, they have referred to me for some minor decisions, but for the most part, they are reliving their ceremonies through ours. They are currently arguing between the orchard and the garden as possible locations for the event, but I grow quite weary of their discussion. There is no real news to tell you of; I wish I could produce an amusing story to entertain you, but no such one exists. Perhaps I could entertain you with a lie, but that would not be the same as a humorous truth. _

_I hope that your studies are going accordingly and that you have found a great deal of happiness in your study. I do miss you quite terribly. I have many memories in my home, but my favorite involve you. Your mother has arranged for you to attend the Halloween masquerade and I look forward to conversing with you on a myriad of subjects—I would ask you what you think of your professors, which ones you adore and which ones vex you. Lately, I try to imagine what remarks you would make about various instances in my everyday chores and it has only reinforced the fact that I need your gentle humor in my life or I do not feel like myself. _

_I anxiously await your return—for Halloween festivities and for the summer. _

_Yours,_

_Lucius_

The contents of the envelope also included various brainstorming in her mother's handwriting and what they were deciding for decoration and color scheme for the wedding. She flipped through and found some sketches of a wedding gown. She grimaced at the tight bodice and ornately decorated and flowing material. How positively _awful_. She would refuse such a ridiculous thing immediately.

Evan Rosier approached the end of the table and sat down across from her. He was a burly sort with supposed regality in his features, though Narcissa was disinclined to see such. However, much of the Slytherin girls and many from other houses were quite infatuated with him (a fact that he was aware of) and he was renowned for his dueling abilities and for his ruthlessness as a Quidditch captain.

"Black," He grunted, folding his arms across the table.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows slightly in response. No one ever called her "Black". It was positively disrespectful in their society to call a lady by her last name without attaching an appropriate title, but he knew that surely.

"I need a player on my team," He continued, "Girl like you could distract the Gryffindors just fine. How good are you at flying?"

"Adequate," Narcissa responded, with a slight frown, "But I have never _played_ Quidditch. Not since childhood, which hardly counts, Evan."

He grunted again. "I can teach you how to play, I just need to know if you _will_."

Narcissa wasn't sure what to say. He clearly hadn't approached her because he thought he had seen her skill of any sort.

"Don't you have a male only team?" She asked silkily, "I hardly think I would fit in."

"It's not exclusive, no one ever said it was."

"And yet no woman ever makes it past the auditions…"

He grew frustrated with her. "Are you _in_ or not, Black?"

"Fine," She said with a huff, "What do I need to do?"

"Come out around eight," Evan replied, standing up, "My father supplies our brooms, so don't worry about buying one. We'll see what you can do."

He walked out of the Great Hall and slammed the doors behind him. She furrowed her brow and glanced at where his figure had just retreated. What had she just agreed to? Oh, dear. She couldn't play Quidditch. Hmm. Narcissa finished her breakfast and pulled her bag over her shoulder. She glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Lily was sitting with her nose in a book by herself. James Potter was trying to gain her attention, but to no avail. She secured the straps on her bag and then moved around the table and walked smartly across the hall toward her.

"Lily," She greeted as she approached.

The Gryffindor table was hushed to silence. Her cousin was smirking widely. Lily dropped her book and looked up at her.

"Hi, Narcissa," She replied.

She looked down the table. Most of them were staring at her, tensed and ready to defend their housemate. She sighed. The tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor was exasperating and rather silly after all this time. Narcissa thought that the only reason it was still occurring was because people thought of it as a tradition.

"I have my notes for the Potions class you missed," She replied, pulling her bag off of her shoulder and unclasping it. She pulled out several pieces of parchment with her handwriting across it and placed it down on the table.

Lily brightened at the sight of them. "Oh, thanks so much. I was trying to read before class to get caught up—this will help. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Narcissa replied, "Feel better."

Lily grimaced. "I would feel much better if James Potter wasn't so obsessed with me—he's the one that hexed me 'by accident' in the corridor."

Narcissa looked over at him. He was guffawing loudly and flexing his arm at Sirius. She said goodbye to Lily and then turned away. As she was walking toward the door, she caught a smile from Andromeda.

Nervously, she braided her hair over her shoulder in the mirror and inhaled shakily. She turned from the mirror and walked out of her dorm. Most of the Slytherins were lounging around the common room, but she noted that all of the other Quidditch players were gone.

Arriving on the pitch, she saw that the team was up in the air practicing. Each of them had the same build as Evan—hulking and intimidating. Narcissa wondered what on earth would possess them to consider her. Evan spotted her and signaled for them to stop. They came soaring from the air toward her and gently touched their feet to the ground and shouldered their brooms.

"You picked a _girl_?" Wilkes protested loudly, "An aristocrat no less? She won't be able to do anything! It might break a nail or give her split ends…"

Narcissa gave him a cold glare. "Unlike your stagnant intelligence, my nails and hair grow back."

The team "_oohed_" appropriately to her response and Wilkes flicked his eyes uneasily around them and then decided it wasn't worth the argument. He muttered something and then glared over at her reproachfully.

"Right, listen up, lads," Evan said, clapping his hands, "I brought Black in to shake up things a little. Gryffindors won't expect her on our team and the surprise will give us an advantage."

He went over to the chests where the supplies were and picked up the spare broom and handed her a Cleansweep Five. He gave her a stern look and then marched over to his own broom. He kicked off from the ground and the other players followed suit. Narcissa shrugged and followed them somewhat timidly. She wasn't even certain that she could do well in practice, let alone actually play during a game.

"Narcissa! Be a Chaser," He called to her, and raised his bat and knocked a Bludger toward the Seeker.

The Quaffle was tossed to Amycus Carrow. Narcissa pressed on the handle and lowered her broom and sped up after him. She never managed to take the Quaffle from him, and after ten minutes of repeated failure, Evan Rosier called for a break and angrily flew over to her.

"Try this," He said, handing her his bat.

He called for practice again and this time when she flew into the air, she caught sight of a Bludger and immediately smacked it toward Carrow and Avery. Rosier stole the Quaffle from Carrow and tossed the ball through the goal. After three successful rounds of Narcissa as a Beater, Evan called for the end of practice. She flew to the ground and lightly touched her feet to the ground.

"Not bad, Black," He complimented, gruffly reaching over and slamming his giant hand against her shoulder, "Few more practices and we might win the game against Gryffindor, eh?"

She was pleased with herself, despite the fact that her arm was especially sore from swinging the bat and her legs were tingling from being so taut for so long. She gingerly left the pitch. The moon was brightly lit and the stars were vibrant above her. It was rather chilly, but she was wearing heavy enough robes that it did not matter so much. She pulled open the double oak doors with effort, and then heaved them shut again. Her legs felt like jelly as she walked down the dungeon steps and into the dark and damp corridor. It was nearing eleven when she entered the common room and trudged up to her dormitory. She pulled on her pajamas and fell into bed quite easily. She had no trouble falling asleep and she rested easily.

Narcissa followed behind Phoebe and Tobias slowly as Hagrid led them down the path to the train. Fang followed closely next to her, and she reached over and patted him tentatively on the head before pulling her hand back in fear that he might take it off at the elbow. However, he panted and bounded around the group in a circle a few times before settling in place behind them.

"'ere you lot go," Hagrid said, gesturing with his wide arms to the silent train at the station.

Narcissa shyly smiled and walked past him. She went up the steps and found her own compartment, since there were so few people and ample space to choose from. However, unlike last time, Tobias and Phoebe followed her into a compartment.

"This again," Tobias complained, "I'm surprised your mother made you come again, Narcissa."

"Yes, I am too," She replied, although she wasn't.

Her mother undoubtedly had plans to try and persuade her to leave Hogwarts forever, but she couldn't. She wouldn't. So rarely did Narcissa have any say in how her life was lived that she wanted this one part for herself. If she could have nothing else, then she might be satisfied.

Tobias and Phoebe talked animatedly about the masquerade while Narcissa sat in mostly silence. Midway through the trip, the compartment door opened and Evan Rosier took up the space of the doorframe.

"Black," He barked, "Come into our compartment."

Phoebe and Tobias shrank back when he finally brought his eyes over to them and glared slightly. Narcissa stood up and smoothed her robes. She followed him down the corridor to the last compartment on the train. There were somehow all five of the other players on the team squeezed into one compartment, and Evan motioned for her to sit in what small space was left. She did so, squishing up against Wilkes and the wall.

"Figured since we're all here we might as well have a meeting and discuss strategy," He announced.

Narcissa grimaced and leaned her head against the window. Rosier talked animatedly about smashing in the skulls of Gryffindors with Bludgers for a good twenty minutes before turning to the Seeker, who had apparently been doing a pitiful job this season as of late. Finally, the train slowed to a stop, and Narcissa scurried from the compartment before Rosier could follow her and request that she come around his place to practice or something absurd like that.

When she stepped off of the train, it was not her mother that she saw, but Abraxas and Lucius that were waiting for her.

"Fancy that," Candra Zabini crowed loudly, dragging Mara by the arm off the platform.

Lucius inclined his head toward her as she approached. He took her fingers gently and kissed her hand.

"I hope you're having a fantastic year so far, Miss Black," Abraxas greeted, taking her hand as well.

Narcissa nodded. "It's been quite eventful."

"Your Aunt Walburga is in bed with a cold, and your mother is caring for her," He announced, "So she's permitted you to stay with us, if you wish. We have twenty-three guests rooms that have been prepared for your disposal, you may of course pick between them."

She couldn't hide her surprise, even though she had seen much of the manor itself beforehand. After she recovered, she followed behind Abraxas. She side-along Apparated with Lucius to the gates of the manor. By the time that they appeared, Master Malfoy had already opened and closed it and was nearing the gate. Lucius opened it for her and she stepped through. It was raining softly, but she didn't mind.

"How is Hogwarts without your sister to berate you?" Lucius asked jovially, "I presume better than usual?"

Narcissa nodded. "Oh, yes, I'm allowed to sit where I please and I've joined the Quidditch team."

"Quidditch?" Lucius repeated, "Oh? I hadn't the slightest notion that you enjoyed the sport."

"I don't," She replied, "but I've never played on a team before."

"Then I think that's an excellent reason to join one," He answered.

He opened the door for her and led her into the brightly lit entrance hall, which had become strangely familiar to her.

"Your mother will be here in the morning," He told her, "She will bring your things for the party tomorrow night."

Lucius took her upstairs and made a dramatic gesture of showcasing each of the rooms that had been made up for her. She eventually chose a room dressed in blue décor which, as she was informed, had a secret passageway in the closet to the basement and a window overlooking the garden. Afterward, he escorted her to the open parlor for evening tea and she settled on one of the divans comfortably. They spent the night casually chatting and occasionally overhearing snippets of conversation from Abraxas and Odelia, who were on the opposite side of the room chaperoning. Eventually, they played Wizard's chess, which the both of them were rubbish at, and Abraxas made certain to give each of them useless tips—for he was just as awful at the game. Lady Malfoy retired early, for she was feeling ill, and Abraxas left them alone for a short period of time, of which Lucius took advantage.

He moved across the divan to her, tentatively sitting on the cushion next to her. He reached his hand out to lightly caress her cheek and then he pulled her in, brushing his lips against hers delicately until he sighed and pressed his lips more roughly against hers, and they began kissing quite passionately and deeply. He pulled her body against his, encircling one arm around her waist and then pressed the other against her thigh. She snaked her fingers through the band in his hair and tugged it free, then pressed both hands through the silky pieces, which had grown longer in the months she had not seen him.

Her lips were raw when they parted. She was straddling his waist. He had pulled her robes open to gently run his fingers up her torso, and their state embarrassed the both of them. She blushed and he slowly clasped the front of her robes. She slid off of him, and he moved back to his place. He pulled his hair back again as she smoothed her hair and robes and ran her fingers over her lips. Abraxas opened the door and breezed into the room at that moment.

"Your mother is resting easily," He told Lucius, "I gave her a sleeping draught, since she had very bothersome aches and pains this evening."

"Have the Healers had any progress?" He asked.

Abraxas shook his head. "They say there is nothing wrong with her. We've tried everything we can think of; we've even gone to Muggles. The consensus is that her _bones_ are fragile."

He snorted as if he thought it absurd. Narcissa rose from her place and said good night to the both of them after he had settled. She slipped out of the parlor and into the wide entrance hall. The portraits along the walls were snoozing peacefully, and she tiptoed so as not to wake the sleeping Malfoy ancestors. She climbed the wide marble staircase to the first floor and then the second, and slipped down the corridor. Narcissa opened the door and when she shut it softly behind her, she heard locks click into place. Curious, she turned around and tried the door knob, but it was magically locked from both the inside and the outside.

Turning from it, she dressed in a night gown laid out for her across the bed and then parted the curtain at the window. There were bulbs dancing in the air around the garden so that she could distinctly see the hedgerow maze, which was growing higher than it had been since her last visit and so it looked rather like an appropriate maze now. Flowers still blossomed in pots down the aisles and the fountain stood at the center with benches around it. The veranda was ornately lit and decorated. She could almost see the path leading to the forest and the orchard, but it was once again overgrown. Narcissa let go of the curtain and then blew out the candles on the bedside tables.

Druella Black wrenched open her door just before dawn and shook her hurriedly. Narcissa groaned and rolled away from her and so she came around the other side and shook her some more.

"Wake _up_!" She shouted, "If you're to look marginally presentable for this evening, you shall have to wake now."

Narcissa folded the blankets off of her legs with a sigh. Her mother took her by the arm and pulled her out of bed. She walked her across the hall and opened one of the lavatories. This one was directly across from the guest room she had stayed in and matched the color scheme. Her mother had already started her bath water. A tap of euphoric blue color that smelled lightly of flowers was flowing from a spout into the large pool basin.

"Soak for two hours and then I will return," Her mother ordered.

Narcissa pulled her nightgown off and slipped into the water. It was almost scalding—her skin erupted in red marks almost immediately, but she grew accustomed to it and rested against the edge and sank her hair under the water.

After two hours, she left the tub and returned to the bedroom. There were quite a few women in the room itself. She was dressed in a pale green gown made of lace and silk with a matching corset underneath it. Her mother had hired someone to style her hair and makeup and between the two the preparation took six full hours. Once she was polished to the point of not recognizing herself in the mirror, her mother left and returned with two journalists for _Witch's Weekly_ and a photographer.

"Hello," The journalist greeted, "Your mother has promised us a very unique opportunity to get into the mind of such a young and beautiful aristocrat. I promise I won't take up that much of your time. I _know_ you have much to prepare for this evening for the Malfoy's annual Halloween masquerade."

A quill and parchment appeared at her side to take notes. She pulled up a chair in front of Narcissa and crossed her legs.

"Now then," She said sweetly, "How old are you, dear?"

"Fifteen," Narcissa stated, just as a camera flashed over her, "Nearly sixteen."

"And what made you decide to get married so young?" She asked.

Narcissa looked over at her mother, who was tight lipped and angry with her still, and so she offered no advice on how to answer such a question.

So she decided upon the truth. "Um, well, it was an arranged marriage."

"An _arranged_ marriage?" The journalist asked excitedly, "Do you approve of Lucius? Do you think he will make a good husband? What are _you_ looking for in a husband? Who arranged such a thing? Your mother or your father?"

"I—yes, I do. I suppose I'm looking for someone like Lucius, which I have found…fortunately…my father made the negotiations."

"Did he arrange your marriage to secure your family's financial standing because he knew he was going to die?" She blurted.

"I—_no_, I don't have any idea…he didn't _know_ that he was going to…" Narcissa stumbled.

She smiled at her brightly. "Did you have a relationship prior to becoming engaged with Lucius?"

"Yes," She replied, "We were friends and in the same house at Hogwarts."

"Did you have a romantic relationship with anyone else prior to your engagement?" She asked.

"No," Narcissa replied.

The journalist pursed her lips. "So you have no experience in life, relationships, or even magic and yet you're getting married…why, exactly?"

She gaped and looked at her mother again, who folded her arms and turned away from her. Finally she looked back to the journalist and said, "Tradition, I suppose."

"What do you do for fun? Do you have any hobbies?"

"I…I play Quidditch," Narcissa answered, "And I like to read and practice Charms."

"Thank you, that is all," She said briskly, snapping her quill and parchment from the air, "Have fun at your party, little girl."

When she closed the door behind her, Narcissa turned on her mother sharply.

"Merlin's beard, Mother, what was that all about?" She asked, "She asked about father and arranged marriages and you said nothing?"

Her mother looked over at her disinterestedly. "Well _you_ have decided to soil your reputation by going back to Hogwarts when you should be getting married, I just presumed you wanted to destroy our poor name further."

"Bellatrix has relationships out of wedlock and has no repercussions, but I want an education and that's considered blasphemy?" Narcissa shouted, "How is that even fair, Mother?"

Druella drew herself up to her full height. "_Bellatrix_ is a respectable young woman with only a slight smidge on her reputation. _You _on the other hand were _born_ under a bad sign, young lady! You are the youngest daughter—none of this is supposed to be happening to you and you know it! You are an ambitious little snake that has manipulated the Malfoys into allowing you to marry their son for their gold!"

"_Ambitious_? If I were _ambitious_, Mother, I would have married him the first chance that I had, not postpone it to the furthest date that I could!" Narcissa bellowed, "And in case you have forgotten, I never arranged this! Let me assure you that _this_ life is not the one that I would choose because this route only makes me like _you_, and that is the very last thing that anyone could desire."

"Well!" Druella huffed, "I have never! Where did I go wrong in raising you?"

"You _didn't_, that's where you went wrong," She spat, "You sat by and let me go because I didn't have a chance. Only my father saw me for who I am."

"Your father was a fool," She said.

"I'd trade him for you any day," Narcissa said coldly.

Druella was stunned to silence. She stared at her for a long moment and then she stood up and tossed Narcissa's mask on the bed.

"Then you can have him," She snapped, "Good luck asking him for help from the grave."


	18. Chapter 18

"_Tree you are,__  
__Moss you are,__  
__You are violets with wind above them.__  
__A child - so high - you are,__  
__And all this is folly to the world."_

_A Girl_ by Ezra Pound

* * *

_Witch Weekly_

_**The Face of an Aristocrat **_

_By Clara Dolohov_

_The guest room in the Malfoy Manor that Narcissa Black (the youngest daughter of Druella and the late Cygnus Black) stays in is a lavishly decorated room with cream walls and soft, plush carpet with touches of variances between soft and vibrant blue. She has been preparing for the Malfoy family's annual Halloween masquerade since just before dawn. She sits across from me wearing the most expensive gown of light green with rare gems sewn to the bodice and a sweeping skirt. She has the longest white-blonde hair, consistently pulled back into a braid, and clear, striking, and intelligent blue eyes. Her face is softly rounded and her neck is elegant. She's petite and willowy in frame; a true beauty to behold. For a fifteen year old ("Nearly sixteen," she insists) she has captured our readers since her engagement to the enchanting Lucius Malfoy. Her story is bold—the youngest and most invisible sister competing against the beauty of Bellatrix Lestrange (who was also betrothed to Lucius Malfoy from childbirth, but that was later renounced) and now, at such a young age, more has happened to her than even her wildest hopes or dreams could imagine. Even with the tragic and sudden death of Cygnus Black, young Narcissa is an enchanting young witch with a multitude of talents. Somewhere behind her regal appearance is an intelligent and quick-thinking young lady and that is evident from the moment that I sat down across from her. She looks uncertain, but willing to give her first ever formal interview. Luckily, I was present to capture this moment. The Malfoys only let me into their manor on the condition that I am a Dolohov. They are a very private lot and do not allow anyone in unless one has an invitation. _

_I ask her plainly what she enjoys to do and she struggles to find the appropriate hobbies. For an aristocratic girl, there are many guidelines and rules devoted to what is considered "proper", and so she must choose her words very carefully. However, Narcissa Black is personable and agreeable and admits she fancies Quidditch and has a secret passion for books and her Charms class. She is clearly quite young in mind as well as in physical age, for she radiates a sort of innocence and benevolence that only the youngest sister of a noble family could. But there is something very sinister here. There are secrets in this manor that Narcissa divulged with me._

_Her engagement to Lucius Malfoy was not consensual, and I fear that this was not the worst aspect of the interview. Cygnus Black and Abraxas Malfoy arranged the engagement between Lucius Malfoy (17) and Narcissa Black (15). Sources tell me that her dowry consists of 250 galleons and the rights to all of the Black investments and property upon Cygnus Black's death to be owned and maintained by _Lucius_, not Narcissa. However, all property rights and investments have _already _been approved of and given to Lucius Malfoy upon the immediate death of Cygnus Black, signed and contracted by his wife, Druella Black. I believe there is a story here, one dangerous and manipulative and it is my personal theory that Narcissa Black is caught in a nasty web of betrayal and deceit from the Malfoy family, who now own everything of value to the her rightful estate. Bellatrix Lestrange, whose current whereabouts are unknown, but we have confirmed that she is living with her new husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, had no say in such negotiations and did not receive any sort of sum or property as heir to the Black estate. In fact, Druella gave all of her affairs to Lucius Malfoy the very same day that her husband's funeral occurred. _

_My sources seem to think that it is quite possible that Cygnus owed a great deal of money to many, but mostly to Abraxas Malfoy, who has become the richest wizard in London and whose estate has tripled in value since his father maintained it. But would Cygnus Black sell his own daughter into a marital bind in order to pay back a debt? It is quite possible, for in the interview Narcissa was quite reluctant to speak upon her father and hesitated to even mention anything involving money. She looked to her mother for help numerous times during some of the more difficult questions that I asked and failed to convince me that she was happy about marrying Lucius. On the contrary, she seemed frightened of him and uncomfortable in their home. It may be that Lucius could be just as conniving as his father certainly seems to be, and for that my heart goes out to poor Narcissa Black, who made it quite plain that underneath her poised exterior is a very terrified young girl about to be married off for her father's failures. _

_Narcissa Black has had no previous romantic relationships with any other man or woman and has not even graduated Hogwarts of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She has been overheard in the Black Manor courtyard vehemently arguing and begging her mother to allow her to attend her sixth year. The misery this young girl must endure is heartbreaking and tragic. I requested interviews with some of her professors, all of whom declined and claimed they had no knowledge of Narcissa's home life or whether she was being neglected or abused. It is now known, however, that she is being sold just like the rest of the Black estate. I believe this interview was a cry for help—Narcissa wants the world to know that she is young, beautiful, and brave and that she desperately needs our help to somehow flee the terrible situations that the Malfoys have trapped her in. _

Candra slammed down the cover of _Witch Weekly_ in front of Narcissa with a sly grin. He sat in the seat across from her and folded his arms upon the table. Narcissa chewed slowly and thoughtfully, wondering which piece of food would blind him if she flung it into his eyes.

"_Poor_ Narcissa Black—now everyone knows how sad you are," He drawled, "Should we start a fundraiser for you? Do you need to pay off your father's debt in order to get out of your marriage to Lucius?"

She decided upon the bacon.

"Another one?" Narcissa asked in a bored tone, as she glanced at her photograph on the front cover, "You're the tenth person to make this joke, Candra, it's hardly even embarrassing anymore."

Sirius Black walked by the table and shot a paper airplane at Narcissa. When it landed near her, she saw that he had made it out of the cover of the magazine. Her image was grimacing and complaining about the cramped folds. She glanced up and saw James Potter and him laughing and pointing at her loudly. Bother.

Candra glanced up and down the table furtively and then leaned in closer to her. "I'm just saying, Black," He breathed, "You would've been better off saying yes to me."

"As I have been told by you numerous times," She replied shortly, "And yet, no such thing will ever occur."

"Look, blabbing all of our secrets to the public won't get you out of this mess," He said, "You want help, you come to me. I'll get you out of the spot of trouble you've put yourself in."

Narcissa gritted her teeth. "Candra, do you honestly think that the contents of that interview are even remotely in the same context as the actual interview? I hardly said anything. She directly quotes me _once_ in the very beginning about my age, and even then I did not put as much emphasis as she said I did. It's sensationalism, Candra. They do it to all of us if they get the chance."

"Doesn't matter. Malfoys get wind of this article and the consequences might be more severe than you're willing to pay," He said, leering at her.

She rolled her eyes and stood up, shouldering her bag. As she turned out of the Great Hall, Andromeda met up with her and inconspicuously handed her a folded piece of parchment before whisking away. She unfolded it and read the contents: _ Girl's Lavatory. Second floor. 8:00 pm._ She pocketed the note and then went outside for her Herbology class.

When she had showered and gone back to the common room after dinner, she found that Poppy was terrorizing Mara in the main room. He had her backed against a wall, hissing and slashing at the air near her. Mara was wandless and terrified while the rest of the house loudly guffawed at the incident.

"Get this _stupid_ animal away from me!" She shrieked.

Candra was loudly crowing in the corner with his arms crossed. He was standing over Rabastan Lestrange, watching him play wizard's chess against a fourth year. His eyes were now on Mara, and he laughed coldly at her disposition. Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him.

"_Diffindo_!" Narcissa cried, ripping part of the tapestry above Mara in half.

It caught Poppy's attention and he scattered backward under a desk, his lamp eyes intensely watching the torn fabric crumpling on the floor. His muscles were twitching, waiting to pounce. Mara stepped aside and glared at Narcissa. She marched toward her and without warning, she shoved her so hard that she fell to the ground.

"Your stupid beast needs to be locked up in a cage, Narcissa!" She shouted.

"He's a _cat_, it's what they do, Mara!" Narcissa responded, standing up.

Mara shoved her to the floor again. Her eyes were glittering darkly. She reached forward and yanked Narcissa by the front of her robes and closed her fists around the fabric. Mara was hardly any bigger than Narcissa, but she had an advantage.

"Well, this is what _I _do," She retorted.

She released the fabric of her robes and then kicked Narcissa in the side as hard as she could with a haughty laugh.

"What the hell is your problem, Mara?" Narcissa insisted, wheezing.

"_You_ are my problem—you're everybody's problem, in fact!" She yelled, "Prancing around here like you own the place. Just because you're Lucius' last resort doesn't mean that you can just _do _whatever it is you want to—joining the Quidditch team and coming back here. You can't just get away with this, you know. You're a _girl_. An ugly, stupid girl. It isn't proper. You're just like your sister from Ravenclaw. What's next? Are you going to snap your wand in half and go live with Muggles?"

The door swung open behind her, but Narcissa hadn't noticed.

"Mara, are you kidding me?" She yelled. She finally stood up and dusted herself off. "We're just like them," She added, pointing in the direction of a cluster of boys watching the scene.

"Don't you get that?" She continued, "We are _just _as valuable as they are, only they don't let us be—if you can't see your own worth then at least acknowledge that other people around you do."

Mara sneered. "See? You think you're better than all of us, but you're not! You're useless. I'll bet you're a squib!"

She picked up her wand from the floor, but Narcissa kicked her in the shin and grabbed hold of her neck. She twisted her into a headlock. Mara stamped on her feet and pinched her until Narcissa let go and then she doubled up her fist and reared back and solidly connected with Narcissa's jaw so hard that she staggered. She was aiming again when Evan Rosier, flanked by the Quidditch team, grabbed hold of her and tossed her to the ground. Candra shouted something, and then tore his wand from his robes. The room erupted in the sound of spells and jets of color and smoke. Narcissa was almost knocked unconscious by the chandelier breaking from the ceiling and soaring across the room. She fell to the floor, vision swimming and her stomach upturned. She crouched underneath a table and panted.

She heard a loud bang and the entire room dropped to the floor. When she turned her head and investigated, she saw that Severus Snape was standing at the staircase, wand out, looking mostly confused by what he had seen, but gleeful in what he had accomplished. Her body was aching. She crawled out from underneath the table and groaned—her head was hurting. When she touched her hand to her scalp, she saw a minimal amount of blood. Not enough to be concerned, but the chandelier had probably left a slight gash.

Narcissa stood up slowly and collected her wand. Severus nodded at her, and then turned and went back to his dormitory. She left the common room slowly, and ambled up the staircase to the first floor and then the second. The girl's lavatory was quiet, and Narcissa wasn't sure of the time. For all she knew, she was early. For all she knew, she was late. However, when she opened the door, Andromeda, Lily, and to her surprise, Sirius Black was waiting for her. She closed the door behind her and came into the room.

"Merlin's Beard!" Andromeda exclaimed, "What happened to you?"

Narcissa glanced in the mirror for the first time and saw that her lip was bruised. Her jaw was as well, and somehow, she'd procured a black eye. And the wound on her scalp had stopped bleeding, but it had bled more than she thought, and it stained her hair and started to dry. There were flecks of it in her braid and down the side of her face.

"Just a regular night in the Slytherin common room," She said, laughing hollowly.

Lily approached her with her wand and in a few moments, she syphoned the blood off of her and down the drain of one of the sinks. Then she made the bruises and the swelling disappear. With it, the aches in her body went away too.

"Now really, what happened to you?" She insisted.

"Mara Parkinson and the rest of the house feel that I'm improper," Narcissa said, "for coming back to school, for joining the Quidditch team and for being the youngest daughter and marrying better than Bellatrix, I suppose."

Andromeda clenched her fists and glared. "If _Bellatrix_ knew what they had done to you…she would be furious!"

"Well, I'm sure that's why they waited until after she left," She replied.

"You can't stay there," Lily said, "What if they don't stop attacking you?"

Sirius snorted. "Of course they won't stop. Their parents probably put them up to it. To preserve tradition and _tranquility_ among the families." He rolled his eyes. "And it doesn't help that you spilled secrets to that journalist," He added.

"This is exactly why I left," Andromeda muttered.

"I guess I have two choices," Narcissa said, folding her arms, "Leave or stick it out."

"You should leave," Her sister replied immediately, "Who knows what they'll do to you, Narcissa? They could try and kill you next, for all you know. They're Slytherins, they'll stop at nothing…"

She trailed off when she realized what she was saying.

"I can withstand it," Narcissa decided, "I might have at least one ally. Severus Snape…he stopped them all. Or at least if things get too loud in the common room while he's studying, he'll intervene."

Lily frowned deeply. "You can't rely on Severus to be good, Narcissa. You just can't."

There was something in the way that she said it that made Narcissa think she knew from personal experience, but she didn't press the issue.

"You're a dolt," Sirius announced flatly, "If you were smart, you would go right up to the Owlery now and send a letter to Malfoy, telling him what happened, and let his father breathe down the necks of every governor and Dumbledore and everyone else until you could get that whole house under your thumb and then you should _leave_ immediately. Go get married and live off in some vacation manor and forget that this happened. You can't live in both worlds. They won't let you."

"What do _you_ know about anything, Sirius?" Narcissa snapped, clenching her fists at her side.

Sirius crossed his arms and glared over at her. He seemed to give up trying to reason with her, and he rolled his eyes and shuffled past. He hit the door with his fingertips dramatically and stormed out without a backward glance. Lily and Andromeda exchanged glances and then sighed.

"That didn't go as we intended it to," Andromeda stated and then added with a snort, "Not that it ever does. Anyway, he came here tonight to confirm whether or not his brother was a Death Eater."

"He is," Narcissa reassured her.

Lily brushed her hair back behind her ear and then crossed her arms. She looked anxiously between the two sisters and then gave Andromeda a stern look. Clearly the two of them had something in mind, Narcissa noted.

"We just thought…" Her sister began, "Well, we just wanted to know…if perhaps you could find out more information."

"You want me to what?" Narcissa asked, arching her eyebrows, "Be a _spy_? Is that what you're asking of me?"

"It's really important, Cissy," Andromeda replied quickly.

Narcissa huffed. "_No. _Find someone else to do your dirty work."

"Look, there's this thing," Lily said, clasping her hands together, "We're too young to be allowed in it, but a lot of our parents are involved…not mine, of course…but it's going to start up, it's a group, you know…like a club. They need to know as much about these Death Eaters as possible. Andromeda and I…we've been listening in a lot, and James' parents, well, they won't join because they feel they're too old, but they let the meetings take place at his house, so he knows a lot. Well, we want to join and help them, and we think if we have information then they might see us as more than just kids."

Narcissa screwed up her face in disgust.

"I'm not going to help you join a _club_," She said, "What a waste of time!"

Andromeda cleared her throat. "They could help you, Cissy. They could get you away from Lord Voldemort and they could even get you out of your marriage, if you wanted. It's possible. They have ways of protecting people."

"_No_," Narcissa reiterated.

"Cissy, you don't want to be on the wrong side when things start to finally go down," She said, her eyes flashing in anger, "Don't you _see_? Your society is falling apart, the whole thing. Everything you know will be gone—you might _die_, Narcissa. If you let me help you, if you help us, we can make sure that you are protected from anything that might harm you."

"I'm not going to spy on anyone," She said, "And I'm not going to help you…and I won't be meeting you here anymore."

Andromeda gasped. "Narcissa _please_, just let me protect you! I'm begging you. We can tell James and Sirius and they will get you out of here and away from Lucius. Please. You don't know what's going to happen, you don't know whom you're dealing with—mother does not know whom she is dealing with, and it would be in your best interest to just trust me. Please. When whatever is starting happens, you _need_ to be on our side. Narcissa, you won't live if you aren't. So please. I'm asking you as your sister…I want to help you and you know that no one else can or will."

"You had your chance to protect me every single time Bellatrix decided to conspire against me," Narcissa answered, "Our rooms were on the same hall. There were hundreds of times that you could have reached out to me and not once did you ever think about anyone but yourself. And now you're asking me to _trust_ you? You may have left our house, Andy, but you're no different than us. The only reason you want to help me is because you want me to give you information about the only people that I have left so that you and your friend can join a cause. And I won't."

She turned from the bathroom before either of the girls could respond and she left, tears stinging her eyes as she slipped into the dark corridor. She avoided Filch, rather to her surprise, since she had anticipated that she would be caught sneaking out at least once. When she came to the common room, she found that it was partially empty, mostly students were stretched out along the couches and chairs in front of the fireplace. A few were studying at desks, and there was, of course, the perpetual chess players in the corner. Narcissa went up the stairs wordlessly to her dormitory. It seemed as though it had quieted while she was away, though whether or not she considered that a good thing or not was another question.

"C'mere, Black!" Evan called to her in the Great Hall the next morning.

She was almost to the door when he stood up from the table and hurried over to her. He had spoken so loudly that the entire Slytherin table swiveled around to stare at them and some of them snickered over at them. When he reached her, he put his large hand on her right shoulder.

"It's your first game today," He announced, drawing himself up to his full height, "And if you muck this up, I'll kill you."

"Oh, my. Thanks for the encouragement," Narcissa replied sharply.

She went out into the entrance hall and to her surprise, Lucius stood by the double oak doors. He was dressed in handsome robes and his hair was silken, pulled back into a band. When he saw her, his face spread into a cheerful smile. She hurried over to him, tugging the straps on her bag tighter to her so that it did not flounce about noisily.

"Merlin, what brings you here?" She asked a little breathlessly.

"Ah, I had the most unusual desire to watch Slytherin's Quidditch match," Lucius answered, "Especially since, rumor has it, they have added a very keen new player."

Narcissa smiled. "I've heard she's right foul. Can hardly stay on her broom."

"She might have a lucky day today," He commented.

"Not if she happens to see the likes of _you_ in the stands," She said, "She's almost guaranteed to fall off then."

Lucius laughed. She gestured toward the double oak doors and he followed her through them. It was somewhat cold outside, lightly sprinkling, but it wasn't unbearable and she yearned for the quiet and the privacy. They walked toward the lake and stood side by side.

He was quiet for a moment before he asked, "How are you doing here?"

"Well," She responded, "I am doing well in my classes."

"Yes," He said, "But how _are_ you? The Slytherins…they aren't mistreating you, perhaps?"

Narcissa sighed. "Who told you?"

"Your sister, Andromeda," He replied, "She insisted your life was in grave danger."

Anger welled up inside of her. It wasn't her sister's place to determine whether her life was in danger or not.

"So you've come to drag me back, then?" She snapped, "Is that it?"

"Of course not," Lucius replied quickly, "I've come to watch you play Quidditch."

"And?" She persisted.

"And to do this," He said, and leaned in quickly, capturing her lips with his softly.

She gasped slightly and he pulled her closer to him. His fingers gripped her wrist. With his other hand, he cupped the side of her face. When he let her go, she was breathless and crimson.

"Oh," She said shyly, looking down at the ground.

"It is incredibly difficult to have you so far from me," He admitted, "Ever since that night at the Leaky Cauldron…"

She withdrew herself from his grasp, blushing furiously. She could scarcely believe that night had even happened and he had made a point to never mention it.

"I don't mean to embarrass you," He apologized.

"I'm not—I'm easy to embarrass, it's nothing you've said," She said, smoothing her hands down her Quidditch robes.

He was quiet for a long time before he took her hand in his again. "Would you…I mean to ask…well, would you have me again, Narcissa? I know we should wait, but I…"

"Yes," She said adamantly.

Lucius sighed in relief that she understood what he was saying without him having to say it.

"BLACK!" Evan Rosier shouted.

She turned from Lucius and saw him marching down the sweeping lawns toward her.

"Get in the locker room!" He bellowed, "Before I kill you!"

"Do you address everyone in this manner or just her?" Lucius snapped.

"Everyone, Malfoy, now sod off and don't distract her or I'll punch your guts out," He responded, "We don't need romance on the field, Black; we need skulls bashed in. Now come on, we're going to talk strategy before we start."

Narcissa followed after him. She turned and looked at Lucius over her shoulder, who looked slightly perplexed. She quickly mouthed, "I love you" and then turned her head away and followed Evan's hulking form to the pitch. She took a seat next to Wilkes, who stiffened and glared at her, as Evan stood in front of them.

"Now everyone," He said, "This is _our _day and this is _our _game and we are going to beat those sorry Ravenclaws. Pummel them into the ground, got it? Mulciber, take up the slack if Black starts choking. It's her first game, after all. Avery and Carrow, we're going to muscle them across the pitch like we always do. Aubrey, do not let them get a single Quaffle through your goals—you got it?"

Bertram Aubrey nodded his head, but he looked nervous.

"And McTavish," Evan said, "You get that Snitch the first chance you see it, got it? We've got better brooms, better players, and this should be easier than anything that any of you have ever done."

But it wasn't. In fact, it was miserable. Narcissa could hardly see through the icy sheets of pelting rain that began flooding the grounds almost as soon as the game began. She could not even see the players, let alone the scoreboard, and only knew what was happening from the announcer. She relied entirely upon the sound of the Bludgers, which was sporadic at best. Twice she slammed her bat into McTavish, who was frantically searching for the Snitch.

Midway through, she assumed of course, Mulciber found her and flew near her. He was, like the rest of the team, enormous.

"I can't even see anything," He announced flatly.

"Agreed," She said.

"Can't tell if we're winning or not," He muttered.

There was a whizzing sound over his shoulder and he reflexively smashed his bat against whatever ball or person was near him without turning to see what he had connected with. She saw the tiniest flicker of gold and noted that he had hit the Snitch. Suddenly, McTavish broke through one of the sheets of rain and stopped near them.

"YOU JUST HIT THE SNITCH!" He bellowed, "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT'S TAKEN ME TO FOLLOW IT? AND NOW I'LL NEVER FIND IT AGAIN!"

Mulciber sneered and jerked his thumb behind him. "It went that way."

"I'LL KILL YOU!" McTavish yelled, launching himself off of his broom for Mulciber.

"Oh, Merlin!" Narcissa exclaimed, jerking her broom out of the way just in time for McTavish to land on Mulciber's broom and wildly begin thrashing him with the handle of his own broom.

She flew off in the opposite direction, hoping no one saw the two of them and so they wouldn't be disqualified. She would not, of course, mind it if she could go back to the warm common room and dry off, but the practices that would come from a defeat would be brutal. She flew lower to the ground and found that it was easier to see somewhat. She struck two Bludgers at the Ravenclaw Chasers and then twisted around to the opposite end of the pitch to see the score. She saw Evan smash into one of the small Ravenclaw players and twist around the Chaser. He threw the Quaffle into the goal and then cheered loudly. Narcissa was half-convinced that Evan Rosier could play a game of Quidditch completely alone and still win. She supposed that, at such a level of obsession, one would have to be competent.

She watched McTavish suddenly streak down toward the ground, his face covered in blood. His hand was reaching out, as if he were about to grasp something, when a Bludger came rocketing across the sky and hit him squarely in the chest. He wheezed and fell over onto the ground. Mulciber laughed coldly and flew off in the opposite direction as him. She was torn between helping him and avoiding the situation all together.

"Slytherin's Seeker has been injured by a Bludger!" The announcer shrilled.

Narcissa swung her bat at a Bludger and directed it toward the Ravenclaw Keeper. It cracked him in the throat and he cried out in pain. Carrow managed to score nine times before he could recover from the blow.

"Ravenclaw's caught the Snitch!"

And it was over. Narcissa touched the ground gingerly. Evan Rosier looked positively elated, radiating such happiness that when he rounded on her and picked her up, she felt happy too. He swung her around and then dropped her roughly. She fell and slid in mud, caught herself on Avery, and then steadied herself.

"Well done team!" He said, beaming, "Ravenclaw's caught the Snitch, but thanks to Carrow and Black, we've won!"

McTavish limped over to the team. Mulciber was smiling over at him with his eyes narrowed. He cracked his knuckles menacingly. He doubled up his fist and before anyone could stop him, he lurched forward and assaulted McTavish and broke his nose.

"We won, you idiots!" Evan Rosier shouted, breaking them apart.

Narcissa trudged away from them toward the locker room and decided she hardly cared to join the festivities of whatever celebration they were intending to have. She opened the door and let it slam shut behind her. She changed before any of the others could come in, though the dry clothing hardly helped how chilled she was. Her hair was soaked and in disarray, but she couldn't bring herself to properly care for it. She left as the rest came in and she shouldered her bag. When she came outside, she saw Lucius leaning against the wall, waiting on her.

"Well done," He congratulated, as she approached him.

"Could you see anything?" She asked.

"Yes," Lucius replied, "It was much easier to see from the stands…with the proper charms, of course."

She smiled. He walked with her as the Slytherins came through in a group, and they slipped in as though nothing was amiss. Which, she concluded, nothing was. Except that Lucius was no longer a student. As they reached the oak doors, Lucius took her hand and silently pulled her from the crowd and they walked across the lawn toward the greenhouses in a bit of a hurry. Narcissa glanced up at Lucius and saw that his expression was suddenly somber, and she wondered if his visit to watch her play Quidditch had been nothing more than a distraction from some bit of terrible news. When they reached one of the greenhouses, he looked over his shoulders to see if anyone was watching, and then opened the door and let her through.

They were inside the greenhouse for the seventh years. Narcissa had never been in here for class and knew she never would, but it looked similar to the sixth year one. The plants were perhaps more dangerous, as she saw thick sweeping vines in various colors, some poisonous.

"This isn't about Quidditch or my company," Narcissa stated, as she turned and sat on a stool, "Is it, Lucius? Something has happened."

"Your mother told Bellatrix about your father," Lucius explained, taking a seat across from her, "And she has opted out of agreeing to join his ranks, and so naturally, such a duty…falls to you."

"She doesn't have a _choice_, she's the oldest!" Narcissa spat, standing up, "And what does it matter anyway? We will _both_ end up being Death Eaters!"

A look crossed Lucius' face—one of surprise but also fear.

"Who told you the name of his group?" He asked.

"No one," She said, shifting her gaze from him, "How did _you_ know?"

Lucius met her gaze with caution. "Has someone been trying to recruit you?"

"I could hardly say I have any friends here," She retorted, "With how _improper_ I am. No. No one in Slytherin has tried to make me an offer. I imagine if any of them are Death Eaters, then they know my situation quite well enough already that they're leaving enough alone to let things sort itself out."

"Then how did you know what they have begun calling themselves?" He insisted.

She raised her eyebrows. "How do _you_ know?"

"I'm a Malfoy," Lucius replied, "We're head of the community, it only makes sense that we know."

"That's rich, considering you hadn't the slightest notion of my father's dealings with the man," She said, crossing her arms.

Lucius sighed. "Shall we be honest with one another, Narcissa? We are to be married. We should trust one another. My father learned and mentioned it in passing to me. So my statement was nevertheless quite true. We obviously don't know everything, since I am certain that if my father knew what kind of pressure yours was under he would have alleviated such a burden immediately."

"Andromeda and Lily Evans," Narcissa finally said, their names coming out in a rush, "I don't know what they know or anything else, so don't ask. But they were poking about, asking me if you were among their ranks. Sirius met with us when I told them that Regulus was one of them; I suspect he was just curious to see if his brother really was or not. He wanted proof. I had none."

"How could they possibly have any knowledge of…" Lucius trailed off and then shrugged, "I suppose if we cannot know, then there is nothing we can do about it. I would have assumed Andromeda wouldn't have any contacts since Sirius is gone too and Lily Evans is…"

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "A _Mudblood_—was that what you were about to say, Lucius?"

"No," He said quickly.

Too quickly.

"I don't care," She said, twisting her mangled braid through her palm to squeeze some of the leftover rain from it, "Mudblood or not, she's the smartest witch in school and it isn't even logical to remain a pureblood anyway, we will eventually all die out… or end up looking like Crabbe and Goyle…"

"You're joking," Lucius interrupted, "Narcissa that goes against everything we stand for to think that way."

Narcissa stared at him hard for a long moment. "Have you _met_ me? _I _go against everything the community stands for by being born. Don't push tradition upon me, Lucius. Think however you wish, but I don't _care_. I would just like to be less miserable at some point in my life, that's all I ask."

She folded her arms across her chest and stood up. She walked across the greenhouse, away from the long table that they had been sitting in front of. Lucius let her go. It occurred to her that this was their first argument over something that hardly mattered in concern to their life. Like her parents' arguments over marmalade and curtains. She stifled a laugh with her hand over her mouth and tried to choke back the images of herself, middle-aged, with a cluster of pink-faced screaming children clinging to her while she yelled at Lucius through the locked door of his study over the quality of the tapestries in the main foyer. It hardly seemed logical. She could not imagine herself in such a way at all, yet they were all destined to become their parents eventually.

"I am sorry," Lucius finally said, "This is no time to be arguing over something so…rudimentary."

She looked at him over her shoulder, but didn't angle her body toward him. "Rudimentary to _you_. I suppose those people you regard in such a way might consider the situation differently. That doesn't matter, though, as nothing will ever change."

He nodded furtively, and she knew they were agreeing that it wouldn't change for different reasons. Lucius in hopes that it wouldn't and Narcissa in defeat knowing that it wouldn't. She did not care if someone came from a pureblood line or not; it was more than likely that she would detest them just the same. She loathed her cousins and her sisters and part of her even loathed Lily Evans for being so kind, yet cunning and sly enough to have the forethought to try and befriend her and then gain information from her. It wouldn't surprise her a bit if Andromeda had coaxed her into doing it in the first place. And from there, all of the pieces had just fallen together quite perfectly for them. Yet another on a long list of people that wished to mold Narcissa's life for her. She grew quite tired of people in general.

"I didn't come just to bring bad news," He said, "I did honestly come because I wanted to see you."

"Well, you have seen me," She said icily, "I imagine this should last you until spring."

"Narcissa, do not be cruel," Lucius said, as he walked toward her, "I beg you. Forgive me."

He approached her and pressed his long fingers against her face, lightly branching them out across her jaw and cheek. He brushed along her skin soothingly, which was quite cold, until she felt them warm beneath his fingertips. He earnestly pressed his lips to hers, claiming them with his own. His hands dropped from her face to her waist and he pulled her against him. He slipped his fingers through hers, intertwining them and pressing his palms against hers. He broke apart from her lips and kissed her neck solidly. She reached up suddenly and pushed him backward as the door opened. Lucius turned around at the sound and saw Candra leading Mara in by her hand. She was blushing and giggling, as if he had just told her a joke.

He stopped when he saw Lucius and Narcissa standing on the opposite end of the room, and he smirked broadly.

"Seem to always find the two of you in compromising situations, don't I Malfoy?" Candra said, strolling toward them and dragging Mara along with him.

She was no longer laughing. Instead, a significant glare was crossing her face and her eyes flashed at Narcissa threateningly.

"Curiously enough," Lucius responded, turning away from Narcissa, "You do."

Candra looked at Narcissa. "Where's your bruises, Narcissa? Or are you hiding them from Lucius?"

"There are spells, Candra," She retorted, "that make them disappear. Shame there isn't one for your busted personality."

He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Arrogant, isn't she Mara?"

Mara tilted her head and studied her. She nodded, her lips spreading into a malevolent smile.

"Yes," She replied, pulling out her wand, "But I think we can fix that, don't you think?"

Before she could react, Narcissa shot a body-binding spell at her. She watched Mara freeze, buckle, and then drop. Candra didn't make any gesture of concern toward her, but he looked mildly impressed that Narcissa had even hexed someone.

"So you _aren't_ a squib," He commented, "Well, that's a relief."

"What do you want, Candra?" Lucius asked in a bored tone.

"Just making sure I receive my invitation to your wedding, that's all," He said, sneering, "Wouldn't miss that train wreck for anything in the world."

"Wonderful," Lucius replied with a grimace.

Candra released Mara from her bind with a dramatic gesture of his wand. She sprang up to her feet and snarled. She raised her wand toward them, but Candra caught her hand and twisted her wrist. She cried out in pain and he laughed and pushed her toward the exit.

"I'll leave you two to it, then," He said, and left the greenhouse, laughing all the way.

Narcissa seethed in her place, her hands clenched in fists of rage. Candra was so insufferable. And childish. She just couldn't believe how he behaved—his family must have bred with savage animals somewhere along the line to have achieved the likes of him, if one could call that an achievement. Lucius was lost in deep thought, his eyes narrowed, staring at the place that Candra had just left.

"How do you suppose he knew where we were?" Lucius asked out loud after a few moments.

"I think he stalks at least one of us," She replied promptly.

Lucius touched his lips with his fingers, running them along the bottom edge and then dropping his hand while he thought.

"_Why_ though?" He asked her, furrowing his brow.

She shrugged. "Jealousy, I guess. I mean, we both have really fabulous hair."

He blinked and looked over at her. They exchanged sheepish smiles and then began laughing, which grew to hysterics. She leaned against him and covered her face in his robes, and he hugged her. When they finally calmed down, Lucius sighed and let out a few dispersed chuckles before she let him go.

He grew serious again. "What did Mara mean about bruises? What bruises?"

"Oh," Narcissa said, "She attacked me. Snape blew up the common room. No big deal."

Lucius stared at her wordlessly for a long moment and then turned sharply away from her and began marching toward the door.

"Where are you going?" She asked him.

"To the common room!" He shouted, "To have a word with them."

"How? You don't know the password," Narcissa said, "And I won't give it to you. I'm not much of a rule breaker, you know."

"I'll bust down the door," Lucius replied.

"Yeah," Narcissa snapped, "almost a thousand years of existence and you're going to be the first person to blow a hole through the magical door and break in. Good luck with that."

He turned around and gave her a peculiar look, but kept swiftly walking. She crossed her arms sullenly and followed him, though at a distance because he was too quick for her. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon along the tree lines. It bled hazy colors across the sky in pale pinks and yellows and as she looked at it, she realized that particular mixture was the color of loneliness.

She rolled her eyes as he burst through the double oak doors with a flair of dramatics, and she managed to slide through before the door shut on its own. He stiffly turned toward the dungeon staircase and took them two at a time, flowing so quickly down them that his robes scarcely were able to trail the steps and catch up. She moved at a slower pace, stepping down the stairs neatly and safely. He was already halfway to the common room when she finished on the staircase and lit the tip of her wand to guide her down the black corridor. He was waiting for her when she arrived, leaning against the wall.

"I'm not letting you in," She told him stubbornly.

"You have to sleep at some point, Narcissa," Lucius replied.

"I could always just go and get Slughorn and make him kick you off the grounds," She said, raising an eyebrow coyly.

He met her gaze. "You wouldn't."

"I _will_," She said and turned around.

She began walking in the direction of Slughorn's office. Lucius said nothing until she was about halfway down the corridor, and then he called out to her to come back hesitantly. Narcissa smirked and twisted on her heel to look at him.

"Changed your mind, then?" She asked lightly, "You'll leave things alone?"

"No," Lucius replied, "But I'll compromise. I'll squash their reputation and leave their families in ruin as revenge."

"That's quite rude of you," She said, "After all, it was just a little confrontation over how improper I am. Which is rather true, don't you think?"

"Of course not," He said immediately.

"I do believe you're blind, Mr. Malfoy."

"You will let me know if any real harm comes to you, won't you?" Lucius asked her.

"What harm could come to me _here_?" She asked, raising her eyebrows, "It's the safest place to be, don't you think?"

He frowned. She laughed shortly and nodded. He wasn't in the mood for jokes, then.

"No," She said, crossing her arms, "I should think that I won't tell you."

"Very well," He said, "I'll find out in other ways."

He nodded to her and turned around abruptly, leaving her standing in the dungeon corridor. She listened to his footsteps echo along the walls, but soon they diminished into silence too and she was left in darkness.


End file.
